Tabula Rasa
by Wolkje
Summary: Robbed of their memories, Squall and Seifer find themselves locked up, and are forced to fight for their lives. Left with no alternative, they can only rely on each other.
1. In The Dark

**TABULA RASA**

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**Summary: **Robbed of their memories, Squall and Seifer find themselves locked up, and are forced to fight for their lives. Left with no alternative, they can only rely on each other.

**Warnings: **Language, Violence, eventual Yaoi (male x male)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Final Fantasy or any of the characters in this story, nor do I profit from writing this story.

**Author's Note: **[23rd of March, 2014] This story started out as a vague idea I had for a one-shot, but it quickly turned into a ten-chapter story. I have each chapter written out fully, the ending all wrapped up, and it's my intention to post regularly—ideally once every week, to every other week. This hinges on life not getting in the way with unforeseeable events of course, and on whether or not my proofreader can get through the chapters fast enough, so please bear with me if it takes a little longer. If you liked the chapter (or even if you didn't), please review after reading. Really, you'll make my day! It's always good to see signs that this fandom isn't completely dead yet.

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**~ Chapter One - In the Dark ~**

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_For Chemotaxis, who is so much more than just my partner in crime.  
This is for all the all-nighters we've pulled, all the support you've given me over the past years, all the fun and giggles.  
It still amazes me that this friendship started out with a story review and a reply. You're the best, lieverd!_

First there was the sensation of pain. A hard surface beneath sore muscles, and a headache so severe it threatened to crash the world right back into darkness. One blink was gingerly followed by a second, a third. A concrete wall was the second thing to register, along with rivulets of water that streamed down its dirty surface. An erratic flickering of cold light illuminated it just enough to see.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply a few times until the haze cleared, I pushed up gingerly and took in my surroundings. The flickering light came from a large fluorescent lamp that dangled precariously from the concrete ceiling, beyond a set of steel bars. Sparks flew from its dislodged end.

Blinking again to make better sense of my surroundings, I noticed I was wet. Moving away from the growing puddle of water, I looked up to see the source of the water that flowed down the walls: a broken pipe overhead. A large rupture ran all the way along the ceiling, no doubt the cause of all the damage. Or well, most damage anyway. The metal bars that marked the room as a prison cell sported a large dent. It glistened in the dark, but not with water.

_Blood_.

I spotted a set of legs sprawled awkwardly just outside my cell in the hallway, barely within my line of sight. Empty shells lay strewn all around—a semi-automatic handgun from the look of them. Standing up to walk closer and examine the odd scene, my hands were jerked back. The sound of chains clattered in my ears. Glancing down, I gave the metal cuffs a testing pull, confirming I stood no chance of breaking loose from the chains that tethered me to the concrete wall. I let them fall slack again, instead examining my cell. To my left more bars separated my own from another one, the space cast in shades and darkness. Across the hallway, more identical cells lined the opposite wall.

_Where the hell was I?_

I couldn't remember how I'd gotten here, or even when. With a start I realized I couldn't remember anything at all, not even my name. My head throbbed persistently, muddling my thoughts. The soreness of my body betrayed a rough handling, and I told myself I must've been hit in the head. And so, with a detachment that came easily, I pushed back the onset of panic and focused on escape plans instead. Leaning in as close as possible, I peered at the cell door which unfortunately looked securely locked.

A sudden snort cut through the silence. Whipping around to face the cell to my left, I stared into the darkness, now able to make out a faint shadow as it moved in the farthest corner.

"Aren't you handling things well," a voice spoke mockingly, the tenor deep and male. Chains rattled as the shadow gestured at our surroundings. "Like what they've done with the place?"

"Who are you?" I demanded, my muscles readying for action in spite of the bars that separated me from the stranger.

Another snort and the clinking of metal followed as the man let his hands drop back to his sides. "You missed out on all the fun," the stranger said casually, ignoring my question. The hint of disrespect was never far from his tone. "Not too sure you'd want to be on the other side of those bars."

I frowned and returned my gaze to the hallway, where the pair of legs still lay absolutely unmoving. I was looking at the aftermath of something—whether of an attack or an earthquake, I wasn't sure. What could even make a dent that large in solid steel?

"Where are we?" I asked, the man perhaps more knowledgeable about what was going on.

"Hell if I know," the voice boomed. "I was hoping you could tell me."

Falling silent at the reply, I returned my attention to my shackles. It didn't seem like the man in the other cell would be of much help. Studying the simple key lock, I figured it should be easy enough if only I had a wire or pin. The thought stopped me short. So I knew how to pick locks.

Frowning at the realization, I decided to ponder the implications at a later time. I searched the scratchy overall I was wearing, the dirty white garment obviously too big to be my own. A prisoner's garb perhaps, but the few pockets held nothing. Looking around again, I scanned my surroundings for anything I could use.

"What are you doing?" the stranger demanded.

I ignored the question and posed my own. "Tell me what happened."

Silence fell, before the chains rattled again and the stranger leaned closer. "_Ask nicely_," the man said, the flickering light casting his grin in wicked shades as he lingered just out of sight.

Feeling the first twinge of annoyance since waking up, I studied the man anew. I couldn't make out much in the dark, but the glint of his eyes flashed in the dark. The grin didn't fade.

"Tell me what happened _please_," I deadpanned, keeping my expression unfazed. Instinctively, I knew I shouldn't allow this man to get the upper hand.

He snorted, the grin twisting before retreating into the dark again. "Of all assholes to get locked up with, I get the one with a stick up his ass."

I kept my stare fixed on the corner where I knew the man to be.

A sigh sounded. "Well, Cupcake, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint. There's not much to tell."

I frowned at the nickname, the low chuckle immediately alerting me I shouldn't have. Luckily he simply continued.

"I woke up in this cell, same as you. A meal a day, lots of guards. They didn't breathe a word to me, didn't take any of my bait," he said blithely, as if discussing the weather. Something in his words warned me the guards had been wise not to fall for his provocations.

"Must've been one, two days since they dragged your sorry ass in here. Pretty banged up too." He paused then, most likely looking me over. I could feel his eyes on me.

I nodded at the set of legs. "That a guard?" I asked, wanting to interrupt the scrutinizing stare I couldn't see.

"Yup," came the gruff reply. "Good riddance."

"How did he die?" I knew the assumption was correct the moment I spoke the words. The body half hidden from sight was too still, too rigid . Another piece of the puzzle. I knew what death looked like.

The man barked a strained laugh. "Not sure what to tell you, Cupcake," he replied, seeming reluctant. "The whole place started to shake. Seemed like an earthquake at first, but then this—this fucking _lion_ tears the place down... It tried to get at you."

"A lion," I repeated flatly, staring at the dark corner.

"Yes, a _fucking_ _lion_," the man snarled. "Huge motherfucker... _Shit_, I think it had wings."

Frowning at the stranger's temper and tall story, I looked back at the motionless legs and the bloody dent in the bars of my cell. And then I noticed the large scratches on the concrete floor and walls. I shook my head softly, not about to let the stranger trick me into thinking they were claw marks.

Careful not to aggravate the man who was possibly mentally unstable, I asked another question. "Did anyone come to check on him? No other guards? No alarm?"

A long silence was followed with harsh words. "Fuck you too, asshole. I know what I saw."

I sighed and massaged at the bridge of my nose, before addressing him again. "I don't care what you think you saw. I need to know if the guards are returning."

That earned me his attention. "What are you planning?"

"I'd like to get out of here some time soon. Preferably before the ceiling comes down." I pointed at the concrete roof that had developed a new series of cracks and fault lines during the few minutes I'd been wasting on the stranger.

"_Fuck_."

I shook my hands to rattle the chains. "I need to get out of these," I continued, ignoring the colorful string of profanity that left the man's mouth upon realizing our predicament. "There's more structural damage on your end. Can you find anything in the debris I can pick these locks with?"

Another few curses sounded before I could hear the man galvanize into action. "You better not be bluffing, Cupcake," he threatened uselessly, and then there was the grind of concrete against concrete, debris being cleared as the stranger searched frantically.

I waited as patiently as I could.

"What exactly am I looking for here?" the man piped up, a note of frustration lacing his voice.

"Something thin and long. Small enough to fit in the locks. Long enough to trip them."

"Needle in a haystack. _Gotcha_," he grumbled. More grunts followed, the stranger's chains clanking loudly as he moved in the darkness. The sound of metal bending was followed with a loud bang, and then a piece of piping impacted loudly against the bars that separated our cells.

I raised an eyebrow at the display of brute force. Then a handful of small metal strips were thrown into my cell, the man's hand the only thing reaching out of the darkness, the rest of his frame a dark contour. "How about those?" he said, his breathing only slightly faster.

They looked like the metal binders with which the overhead pipes were held into place, but they were too thick. I said as much.

"_Fuck!_" the stranger cursed more loudly now, but only allowing himself the one brief interjection before starting his search anew.

The ceiling groaned in complaint, a brief tremor momentarily pausing the scurry of activity in the other cell.

"_Hurry_," I couldn't help but say.

"Well _shit_, smartass," the man growled. "What's the fucking rush—_Wait_," he interrupted himself. "There's wires sticking from this wall."

"Get them," I ordered.

Another angry growl sounded. "At least I'm taking you down with me if I get electrocuted," came the grumbled reply. But no static snapping of electricity followed, no smell of burning flesh. I paused at the far too vivid information my brain seemed to conjure.

I snapped to attention just in time to catch a messy tangle of wiring. "There you go, _your Highness_. Now get us the fuck out of here."

_Pulled clear from the wall_, I noted as I looked at the electric wiring. Brute force indeed. I briefly pondered the wisdom of attempting to free the stranger, but quickly postponed the decision. Picking the plastic insulation off one of the wires, I twisted the metal threads into the desired loop and eased it into the lock on my right wrist.

"Get a move on!" the man urged, clearly getting antsy as the ceiling continued to crack and groan. The water from the broken pipe was still flowing uninterrupted, the entirety of the cell floors and hallway now flooded.

After a few seemingly eternal seconds of worrying whether I'd been wrong about my assumed skill, the right shackle finally sprung free. I immediately started on the left one.

"Fuck yeah!" the man in the other cell whooped.

When both shackles fell to the floor, I rushed to my cell door, finally able to examine it from up close. _Damn_. With one glance I knew I couldn't bust that lock open with anything less than a spring charge.

"Don't quit on me now, Cupcake," the stranger urged. "The guard!" he added immediately, as if struck by inspiration.

Not needing any elaboration, I immediately lay down onto my stomach nearest to where the guard had fallen. I ignored the cold water that soaked through my overall and stuck my right arm between the bars to reach for the dead man. My fingers grasped at thin air, so I pushed tighter against the bars, my shoulder straining under the painful stretch, but finally I got a hold of the guard's foot. Slowly I started to pull the man into view, not wanting to exert too much force and end up with only the guard's boot in hand.

As I reeled in the guard and maneuvered him up against the bars of my cell, the water around me colored a deep red. A jolt of surprise ran through me when I cast a quick glance at the man's upper body. He was mauled beyond recognition, his torso and face a bloody mess. Farther away, the guard's handgun lay flung aside, the magazine most likely emptied if the number of shells was any indication. This man had panicked. Suddenly the lion theory seemed a lot less fanciful.

But I had no time for hypothesizing and quickly patted my hands along the man's clothes and pockets. Above us, crumbling pieces of concrete were starting to patter down into the inch deep water.

"Come on, come on," my prison mate urged from behind me. If he was at all surprised at the state of the guard's body, his voice didn't betray it.

Finally my hand closed around a set of keys. I quickly yanked it loose from the thin chain it was attached to. My hands never wavered, quickly but steadily moving through key after key until I identified the one that fit the lock type of my cell. The key was a match and the mechanic lock gave way, the bent door swinging open.

Pausing in the doorway, I turned my gaze to the neighboring cell. I knew the man was looking at me, just as he knew I was making my decision. Instead of the threat I expected for my hesitance, the man simply waited in silence.

A detached voice filled my head with warnings. From what little I had managed to gather, the man had a short fuse and was possibly suffering from hallucinations. I glanced at the guard. _Or maybe not_. In any case, I had reason to believe he was strong and that didn't necessarily have to play out to my advantage. There was nothing to convince me that I could trust this man not to stab me in the back once I let him out. For all I knew, we were both incarcerated criminals.

Frowning at the calculated train of thought, weighing the value of a man's _life_, I hesitated only one more second before I promptly ignored all my previous conclusions and strode to the man's cell door. Relieved to find that the key I'd used was a master key, I hurried into the dark cell.

"Over here," the man spoke, having found his voice again. Stopping in front of him, the rattle of his chains told me he was holding out his hands. I took the metal wire in hand and let my fingers ghost his shackles, searching for the lock opening.

"Can you do this in the dark?" he asked, sounding less insolent than before.

"_Yes_," I hissed. "Hold still." Larger pieces of debris were now falling to the floor, when an ominous crack was followed with a thunderous avalanche of stone, covering the area where I had been chained up only moments earlier.

I could feel the stranger's heartbeat spike beneath the hot skin of his wrists, his tendons drawn taught. "Nearly there," I said, pulling his left hand free. He didn't comment as I continued to work on his other shackle. When that one finally fell loose as well, we turned to run to the exit.

"This place is coming down!" his voice boomed, his footsteps fast behind me, disturbing the water as we ran. We passed the dead guard and bounded around the corner, only to find the metal exit door had been bent under the weight of the collapsing ceiling. I put my shoulder against it and pushed in vain. "It's jammed."

I turned around and had the first good look of the man I had set free. The first thing I saw were intense green eyes. He towered over me, his muscles thick and his skin either dirty or tanned. It was hard to tell in the flickering light.

"_Move_, Cupcake," he ordered, manhandling me to the side. With astounding force, he kicked against the metal door once, twice and a third time, the door denting until finally it was thrown clear from its hinges and landed farther down the hallway with a loud clang.

He flashed me a cocky grin, baring white teeth, and stepped aside to let me through.

"Ladies first."

"I'll take point then," I said dryly, casting the man a glare. Striding into the hallway, I heard a chuckle as the stranger followed close behind me. Glancing at the dislodged door as I made my way past all the rubble, I kept my expression purposefully bland, not about to betray I was even remotely impressed.

"I'll hand it to you, Cupcake. You're good with locks," the man offered condescendingly as we jumped down from the last bit of debris into an undamaged section of hallway.

"Apparently," I muttered under my breath, straightening from the crouch I'd landed in. Keeping my steps muted, I quietly jogged to the intersection ahead and kept my back pressed against the wall as I peered around the corner. A long hallway stretched all the way to the left and right. Empty, no security cameras. I waved the stranger over who had been lingering a few steps behind. "All clear."

As I stepped out into the intersection, the man joined me. He cast me an odd look, but refrained from comment.

No longer threatened by imminent burial, I took a moment to calm the racing of my pulse and considered my options. Both ends of the hallway disappeared into the distance, narrow and seemingly identical. The lights were still working in this part of the complex, but they did little to counter the claustrophobic feel of the place. Above, the ceiling and upper walls were lined with more pipes and ducts, but none of the vents were emitting fresh air. Instead, the smell of something burning came from one of the ducts to the right.

"Underground," I pointed out.

The blond man followed my gaze to the duct that was starting to spit out wisps of thick smoke and hummed his agreement. "We're at least four levels down... I think."

"You're not sure?"

The man's eyes narrowed in remembrance. "I wasn't exactly at my best when they moved me down here."

"A prison?" I asked, breaking into a slow jog to the left. Whatever fire was raging to the right, I'd rather avoid it.

"Then you're the only other prisoner I've seen so far."

That bit of news neither improved or hurt our chances of escape, so I saved the comment for later thought, when we had more information. The next intersection split into two hallways that sported several doors, possibly housing enemies, and a staircase that led to both upper and lower levels. Behind me, I could feel the stranger's eyes bore into my back.

"What?" I whispered, not yet certain the coast was clear. I turned around to meet the man's serious gaze.

"You don't remember anything either, do you?"

Wasting a few precious seconds considering whether an honest reply would work for or against me, I ground out a reluctant "no."

"_Fuck_," the blond cursed, running a hand through his matted hair. "This is no prison, Cupcake," he said, gesturing at our dilapidated, concrete surroundings.

Suppressing the unease that resurfaced at the man's words, I feigned calm. "We can compare notes later. Now we need to _move_." Clearing the coast, I moved up the stairs, careful not to alert any possible guards ahead. The man only barely bothered to lower his voice as he cursed a string of colorful expletives and followed.

He was right of course. What prison only had a few cells, and didn't line every single blind spot with security cameras? Where was the blaring of an alarm? The place screamed of disuse and abandonment, the damp and moldy concrete walls not exactly telltale of a high security facility. The lamps and electrical wiring were new, but crudely installed. An old complex then, recently repurposed.

Irrelevant. Get out first, ask questions later.

Emerging at the top of the stairs, I froze in my tracks when a scratching sound reached my ears. Pressing close against the wall of the staircase, I pulled the stranger in next to me, out of sight of whatever was making the irregular sound. Ahead, I could glance into a hallway with several doors—just like the ones in the level below. The hallway to the other side, concealed from view, was most likely exactly the same, apart from something that was pacing around leisurely. Paws, like a canine perhaps, but... larger.

I exchanged looks with the blond next to me, who raised a pointed eyebrow that said _I told you so_.

Frowning, I listened out for anything else that would give me a clue as to what the creature was. As I mentally prepared myself to possibly face an actual lion, however ridiculous the thought, my hand strayed to my waist, but my fingers met nothing but air. At the fruitless gesture that came as a reflex, an acute discomfort took hold of me that had eluded me before—_weakness_. I instantly knew I was reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. Probably confiscated then, even though I couldn't remember what weapon I was looking for.

The sound of the creature drew closer and I could even make out its breathing now, low and rumbling. Wait. That wasn't one creature drawing in impossibly loud breaths... Two—no, three? A deep snort of air sounded from just around the corner, at a height that originated from somewhere above my head.

I didn't move a muscle, a wild surge of adrenaline sending my muscles taut with anticipation. _Fight or flee_?

The obvious instinct should be to flee, to go back down the stairs, but we needed to go up and reach the surface. If we backtracked, we'd only run back into more collapsing rooms, and quite possibly, fires. My feet were glued in place, my mind grasping for a third option. An elbow jammed into my side, and I glared at the blond next to me.

_Go_, the stranger mouthed at me, jerking his head at the staircase that would take us back down. His mouth drew into a stark line when I didn't obey and shook my head instead, nodding at the hallway that would take us in the opposite direction of the creature and hopefully to the next level.

Looking at me as if I was insane, the man narrowed his eyes and closed one hand around my upper arm in an unyielding hold. Digging in my feet as the man started to haul me back the way we came from, I jerked back with more force than the blond must've counted on, because the next moment we lost our footing and stumbled a few crucial steps into the open.

We held our breaths, our widened gazes locked in a second of comprehension, and then the beast was upon us, its threatening growl erupting through the hallway threefold.

_It has three heads_, I registered with detached amazement, but that was all the examination I could afford before I was yanked along violently by the blond brute, down the hallway I'd been aiming for. Behind us the beast roared in anger and started into pursuit, its paws skidding along the concrete at an alarming speed. Instantly I knew we couldn't outrun it.

Most likely coming to the same conclusion, the blond randomly bashed through one of the hallway's doors with brute force, causing us to roll over the floor in a wild jumble as we missed the few steps that led down from the door we'd burst through. Impacting harshly against a wall, the wind was knocked out of me. A loud curse sounded to my left, immediately followed with mad clawing sounds and enraged snarls.

In the doorway the beast was pressing its massive bulk against the frame, failing to push through. Its three sets of red eyes blazed with bloodlust, several mouths snapping at us furiously and spattering us with flecks of saliva. The creature's putrid, warm breath ghosted my skin. About to scramble to my feet, I got dragged onto them by the blond instead, his fingers still digging painfully into my arm.

Successfully yanking myself free this time, I was rewarded with a narrow-eyed look before the blond put himself between me and the crazed beast and started to back us away towards the only other door in the small storage room. When it became apparent the creature couldn't follow after us, we exited into yet another hallway and broke into a jog.

"What the fuck was that!" he spat angrily once we'd finally covered enough distance to catch our breaths.

I glared at the man, anger mixing dangerously with the adrenaline still coursing through my system. "_Don't_ touch me again," I bit back lowly, the man's earlier protective stance insulting. "I can take care of myself."

"Take care of yourself?!" the blond sneered as he crossed his arms in front of his chest in a pointless attempt to intimidate me. "It was cute, you taking the lead, Cupcake, but we're doing things my way now."

I clenched my fists at the blatant condescension and took a step into the bastard's space. "Get in my way again and I'm cutting you loose," I hissed. "Don't assume I can't."

The man stared at me for a stunned moment, only to bark out a derisive laugh. "For Hyne's sake, did you see that thing?! Sorry to break the news to you, Cupcake, but you look like a strong gust of wind could knock you over. What the fuck would you have done against that—that... Fuck, what _was_ that?"

Briefly closing my eyes to force my anger down, I drew in a slow breath and considered the man's valid question. "A three-headed dog."

"We're fucked," the blond said with a disbelieving huff. "There'll be more of those things around."

I nodded, far more prepared now to take his words at face value. "A lion with wings?"

"Like I said," the man replied, slightly relaxing his forbidding stance. "And that one _did_ fit through doors."

I shook my head, trying to make sense of the facts at hand. "Experiments then," I theorized. "Genetic manipulation. Maybe we're experiments too."

The blond scowled. "What, like clones or something fucked like that? _Like hell_ I'm a fucking genetic experiment," he bit out, jerking his hand in a dismissive gesture.

I rolled my eyes at the egotistical reaction. "It would explain the lack of memo—"

"No!" he barked, his expression a contortion of denial.

"_It would explain_ the lack of memories," I reiterated coolly, "but we have scars." I pointed out a rather big and ragged one that lined the blond's lower left arm. "Old ones. We're not...new."

Listening intently, the blond started to catalog the abundance of scars on his own person.

"I keep feeling like I'm forgetting things—important things. This was done to us."

Nodding slowly, the man seemed to calm down, taking my theory on board. "So then, experiments with memory?" he asked, looking up from the study of his scars to meet my gaze.

"Maybe," I shrugged. "It won't matter if one of those things gets to us, so let's go." With those words I turned into the hallway to our left, adding notes from our frantic escape to the mental map I was trying to piece together. If we kept our movements systematic, maybe we could avoid getting lost and running in circles.

"_Fucking Hyne_," the blond muttered, following after me. "Aren't you just a ray of sunshine."

"Who's Hyne?" I asked, glancing back over my shoulder. Receiving only a blank look, I elaborated. "That's the second time you used the name."

"...I don't know," the man said with a frown, forgetting his annoyance with me. "A god? A saint maybe. Isn't that how it works?"

Nothing useful then. I hummed my acknowledgment, leaving the blond to his musings as I assessed the risk of entering the large, open area that sat far too innocently a small distance away. I wasn't too sure whether it would be an improvement over the narrow hallways.

"Hyne," the man muttered, as if tasting the name. "_Hyne_," he repeated more testily. "...Feels like a curse to me."

I rolled my eyes at the announcement. "Get over here," I ordered, muting my voice.

Quietly, he moved in and towered over me from behind. Peering over my shoulder into the clearance ahead, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "You don't play well with others, do you, Cupcake." The hairs on my neck stood on end at the man's threatening proximity. "_Learn to_." And then he was pushing past me, strolling into the open with undue confidence.

Reminding myself I'd never have made it beyond the cell block without the bastard's help, I followed after him with a scowl. The open space was equipped with machinery I couldn't divine the purpose for, a chaos of wiring and electronics protruding from their smoking innards. Sparks flew from some of them, and as we walked, shards of glass and molten plastic crunched beneath our boots.

It was then that the lights flickered for a few beats, before dying all together.

"Fuck," the stranger cursed. "You still with me?"

Before I could answer the man's call, the telltale hum of generators kicking into gear was followed by a pale blue emergency light that shone from a few key points along the walls, near the floor. The resulting play of shadows made for an eerie atmosphere, but more worrisome, it created far too many blind spots where enemies could lie in ambush.

Joining the blond's side, we exchanged a concerned look.

"First the air circulation, now the lights," the man said. "Possibly heating as well," he added, demonstrating with a deliberate puff of breath that frosted in the chilled air. "We can't be here when the generators give out." He dragged a hand through his short hair, his shoulders tense. "What the fuck happened here."

Moving around to take in the destruction, we split up and searched for something—_anything_.

Rounding one of the machines, the blond stopped in his tracks and hissed a silent curse, before he moved out of sight to investigate whatever had caught his attention.

"_Shit_."

I followed after him, my eyes falling to a gruesome scene not unlike the dead guard I had lifted the cell keys from. Two men sat huddled together, cornered between machinery and literally frozen into a state of terror—their lips and skin were a ghastly blue, glazed over with a layer of frost. One of the two had been badly wounded, his left hand attempting to press in his entrails without much success. The puddle of blood that had formed beneath him was frozen over.

Both of us started from our study when sudden shouting erupted from behind a metal door a few steps to our right, accompanied by the loud banging of fists. _Male, young_, I noted as I calmed the spike of my pulse.

"Hello?! Is anybody there? Hyne, please get me out of here!"

At the familiar expletive, the blond flashed me a grin before quietly closing in on the door. I allowed myself a brief moment to wonder at how easily he'd taken the horrifying death of the two men behind us in stride. Beyond the implications to our own safety, he was just as unfazed as I was. I couldn't even muster distaste at my own lack of reaction, so instead I watched with curiosity as the blond leaned casually against the door frame and boomed with an authoritative voice.

"What's your name, kid! And how the hell did you get stuck in there?"

He sounded like a general with a particularly short fuse—equal parts authority and a promise of punishment if his orders weren't followed exactly and swiftly. The young man on the other side responded in kind, clearly used to a chain of command.

"Barnes, Sir! Engineering, team two. I swear, I had nothing to do with any of this! Please let me out!"

"_I_ will decide on that," the blond reprimanded sternly. "Let me take a guess. The very _instant_ one of those things showed up, you took the coward's way out. Abandoned your comrades and escaped in there. Am I right?"

A brief silence was followed by a stream of denial. "No, Sir! I was already in here when the system malfunctioned! The door closed on me before I could get out—emergency protocols, Sir! I can't override them!" The young man drew in a trembling breath. "I swear, I would've helped them if I could have... Hyne, the sounds...I didn't see, Sir, but I _heard_. Please let me out! I don't want to die in here!"

"Seems to me you're doing just fine, Barnes," the blond replied with a sneer. "Everyone's dead. The first person I find alive, and it's a coward from engineering." He added lowly, "How do I know you're not one of the intruders."

With raised eyebrows, I joined the blond by the door, careful to silence my footsteps and not alert the other to my presence. He was grilling the man for answers with more finesse than I'd have thought the brute capable of.

_Intruders?_ I mouthed to him, but he just shrugged. A guess then.

"Intruders, Sir?" the locked up man replied, confused and temporarily forgetting about his need to get out. "I don't know about any intruders..." he trailed off and then added with more fear than before, "Not SeeDs, sir? That's impossible! They _can't_ have found us. I—Hyne, are they still here? They'll kill me if they discover me! Please let me out! Take me with you!"

I exchanged a puzzled glance with the blond. Aside from strange creatures and corpses, we hadn't encountered anyone else.

Letting out a derisive snort, my companion continued his interrogation. "An engineer would only slow me down. Unless... You have weapons in there, Barnes? Anything to fend them off with, or those damned creatures? Any training to speak of?"

"I'm unarmed, Sir, but I'm fast!" the reply came swiftly, hopeful now. "Better to sneak around them anyway, Sir—them _and_ their GFs. From what I could tell from the monitors, most of them got out."

"Your equipment still works in there?"

"No, Sir! Not since the generators gave out."

Exchanging another look with the blond, we considered our options. The man on the other side seemed harmless—a low-level grunt of whatever organization we'd gotten caught up in. I didn't want his death on my conscience if he proved to be innocent in all this, as low-level grunts often tended to be.

I gave a soft nod and gestured at the override mechanism next to the door. The blond shook his head. "We can't trust him," he hissed in a quiet whisper.

"We don't take him with us—just give him a fighting chance," I whispered back. "He's unarmed." And definitely not as dangerous as the brute who was currently staring me down.

"Sir?" the younger man piped up, his voice alarmed at not receiving an immediate response. "Come back, Sir! Don't leave me here!"

The blond cast me a dark-eyed look. "Leave no man behind, huh," he whispered, his tone derisive. "Aren't you a regular softy."

Ignoring the man's displeasure, I pulled the lid off the locking mechanism and considered the wiring inside. Definitely more challenging than the locks on our cells. The place beyond was considered more important than our confinement then, or we'd been underestimated.

"Sir?! Please, Sir!"

Scowling at me one last time for good measure, the blond raised his voice again. "Still here, Barnes. Just figuring out a way to open this damned door."

"Thank you, Sir! I won't slow you down, I swear!"

Tense with concentration as I tinkered with some of the wires, I finally found the one that would divert the electricity and unbolt the thick, metal door. I gave a quick nod and the blond stepped back, readying himself for the captive's reaction.

The door hissed as it unbolted, groaning in its hinges and swinging open to a slightly ajar position.

"Thank Hyne!" the young man exclaimed, pushing the door open and appearing in the door frame. He wasn't in any kind of uniform I recognized, his clothes dirty and mended in several places. His face was smooth and young, his brow covered with a sheen of fear induced sweat.

All relief disappeared from his face when his gaze fell on the two of us. "No..." he uttered, stunned, but instead of backing away, he drew a long knife from the back of his belt. He thrust it out in front of him, his arm trembling as he nervously slashed it through the air from me to my fellow escapee and back again.

"_Calm down_," I tried, holding up my hands. "We don't want to hurt you."

"So much for unarmed," the blond snarled.

"_You_ killed them," the young engineer whispered, his voice thick with horror. His eyes flitted to where the two men lay dead amidst machinery.

"That wasn't us," I said, attempting to reason with the man. "Drop the knife and get out of here."

The engineer just shook his head, a small smile fueled by panic appearing on his lips. "Oh no, no no. I'm not _that_ stupid." He steeled the trembling in his arm, his eyes widening slightly with determination. Not a good sign.

Next to me, the blond tensed with tangible adrenaline waiting for release. I didn't doubt he could bulldoze right over the young man and crush him against the wall, but not necessarily without receiving a knife to the gut.

"Don't—"

My warning to both men was cut short, my shout inadvertently drawing the wide-eyed man's attention towards me. His mouth opened in a cry, his knife swiping out wildly but clumsily. Something in my mind clicked into place as I sidestepped reflexively. I grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it brutally until the knife dropped into my waiting hand, and the next moment the engineer lay on the floor, twitching and gurgling blood as he nursed a throat that gaped wide. I stared down at the dying man I had been trying to save just moments earlier, surprised how _easy _it had been to kill.

"_Damn_, Cupcake," the blond cursed next to me. "Give me a warning next time, will you?"

Not bothering to point out I had tried to, I looked up and met the blond's reassessing gaze.

"You've got some blood...right there," he said drolly, pointing at my neck and face.

Glancing down, I spotted the blood that had spurted in a neat trail from the young man's slit artery onto my overall, over my chest and upwards. I halfheartedly wiped at my face, my white sleeve coming away with sticky red.

"Let's search the room," I said, nodding at the door I'd just opened.

"Right. Let's _search the room_," the blond repeated, mockingly blasé. He gave a low, appreciating whistle as he sidestepped the dead man and entered the once heavily bolted room.

Perhaps we were incarcerated criminals after all.

I frowned as I wiped the knife clean on my already ruined sleeve and secured it through one of my overall's belt loops. A man's death wasn't an acceptable price to win the blond's respect, but that didn't make me any less pleased to have seen the surprise in his eyes. Maybe now, at least, the bastard would be less inclined to underestimate me.

And so I followed after him, hating how I felt more assured of myself. I didn't _want_ to kill, but I could if I had to. It was chillingly simple—my path to survival.


	2. Beasts and Witches

**TABULA RASA**

* * *

**~ Chapter Two - Beasts and Witches ~**

* * *

Moving from monitor to monitor, all of them dead, I looked out for anything that might give us a clue as to what the fuck was going on. The ceiling above us hung low, everything about the place indicative of a stronghold or bunker. There were no windows and the only air duct in the room was bolted off with a thick steel grate. The door had been heavy duty— nothing short from industrial cutters would get through. Or well, _those_ and a certain pissy lock picker.

I hid my irritation. I disliked being wrong, and _fuck_, had I been wrong about Cupcake. No ruthless killer had the right to look that damned harmless—thin and smooth faced like a teenager. Hell, I wouldn't estimate pretty boy to be much older than eighteen, his prison garb loose and shapeless in all places where the fabric of my own overall clung tight to my muscles. It was the perfect disguise.

I glanced back at the open doorway, to where the engineer had bled out, a permanent expression of surprise on his face. Stupid fucker probably thought he'd take out the easiest target first. Hell, neither of us had seen it coming. I'd initially found the little lock picker's commandeering attitude _endearing_, albeit annoying. I suppressed a snort.

Feigning interest in meaningless graphs and calculations that lay strewn about on the centre table, I considered the wisdom of sticking with the brunet that had ended up as my reluctant liberator. Even more than my dislike of being wrong, I _hated_ that I owed the little shit. I'd repay my debt and get us out of here. After that, I was _gone_.

Releasing a small piece of equipment I'd been clenching in a death grip, I sneered at myself and refocused on the task at hand. I didn't want to waste any more time than necessary in this shithole. I looked around me, spotting nothing that would be of use to us. The place looked too haphazardly put together for us to divine its purpose.

"A command centre?" Cupcake mused out loud from somewhere in the back, as if reading my thoughts.

I shook my head. "If this was a command centre, then where are the commanders? The place was under attack."

"Maybe they needed the manpower elsewhere. Maybe the lockdown happened before they could act."

"Pretty incompetent fuckers if they can't override the door to their own command centre."

When the brunet didn't immediately reply, I continued farther into the room and walked past a wall that was covered in small TV screens. A desk and some equipment were placed below it. Most likely, the screens had been showing some kind of security footage before the blackout. Metal cupboards, racks and tables lined the remaining three walls, and most of the floor was littered with wiring, much like the room we'd just come from. The only difference was that the equipment in here seemed newer... more advanced somehow. Several computers were spread around the room, useless to us now.

Somewhere in there was everything we needed to know about what had happened—video footage, information, plans, _the works_. But at this point we scarcely had time to locate the generator and reroute its energy to equipment we probably wouldn't be able to figure out anyway.

I cursed out loud and kicked against one of the smaller metal racks, sending it crashing to the floor along with the equipment atop of it.

"Find anything?"

Barely managing not to visibly startle, I glared at the smaller man that had managed to sneak up on me. Shit, I had better pay attention. I shook my head in answer to his question, and noticed the engineer's knife had found a new owner, securely attached to Cupcake's hip. Yup, _definitely_ not harmless. If that wasn't enough of a reminder, the darkening smear of blood on his pale cheek certainly was.

"Think you were right, Cupcake," I said, purposely voicing the compliment to sound like an insult. "The engineer was part of some research. This place, these machines—" I said, indicating the room around us "—they were doing _something_ important enough to seal it up like this."

Either not hearing my annoyance or choosing not to acknowledge it, the brunet nodded faintly, his eyebrows crinkled in thought.

"I found blueprints," he said, jerking his head to a small desk that sat in the far corner. "This place was only taken into use a few months ago."

Refusing to feel humbled by the unexpected capability this twig of a man was showing, I strode over and studied the sloppily drawn plans. "There's an armory on the lower floor—shit, where the fire was."

Cupcake nodded, those dark eyebrows knitting together in thought. "We'll have to do with what we have."

I let out a derisive snort. "_Great_. One knife. I feel better already." I shook my head in frustration, uselessly staring at the scribbled "armory" on the obviously makeshift plans. This hadn't been a professional job, but a quick distributing and repurposing of resources. But makeshift or not, that armory was the one place I could think of to look for the weapon I _knew_ had been taken from me, whether I could remember it or not. I'd seen Cupcake reach towards his hip as well—the exact place where that pathetic knife was now secured.

I didn't like any of it. The more I learned about him, the more we seemed to have in common. Then again, why else were we chained and locked up together.

"See this?" Cupcake said, pointing at a room that was located on the same level as us, to our east. "_GF_. That's what he called those things."

"Hell if I know what that means. And _seeds_? He was scared shitless of those."

Cupcake shrugged. "An acronym?"

"Then that's the shittiest acronym I've ever heard." I threw my hands up in the air in mock fear. "Ooh, the big, bad _seeds_ are coming."

That only earned me a dramatic eye roll and another jab of Cupcake's finger to the "GF room" on the plans. Whatever _that_ was.

"These things—_GFs_—they're the purpose of this place. Or closely related to it. Bio-warfare gone wrong, maybe. It could have backfired on them. Maybe this room is where they did their research, and the GF room is where they kept them?" Gray-blue eyes turned to regard me, looking for my input.

It only _slightly_ smoothed over my ruffled feathers. Fucking loose cannon.

"The kid back there was quick to believe intruders were involved. He said, and I quote, 'seeds and _their_ GFs.' Sounds to me like these seeds keep quite the pets, whoever the fuck they are, and these people stole them. We're stuck in the middle of something here, Cupcake. Don't drop your guard."

Cupcake let out a soft huff at that, but at least he seemed to consider my words. "You're jumping to conclusions. These _seeds_ aren't actually here. The engineer just assumed as much. All we know for sure is that he was frightened of them, but he was also frightened of _us_, two unarmed men. Maybe he scared easily."

I barked out an incredulous laugh. "Have you taken a good look at me, Cupcake? I could have you _and_ our little engineer for breakfast if I felt like it. Prisoners usually don't give their captors a chance when they break free_._ He had the _good sense_ to shit his pants at the sight of me."

Cupcake just rolled his eyes at that, which sadly meant he was getting used to my provocations. I would mend that situation soon enough.

"Maybe they were doing illegal research in here, commissioned by these _seeds_," he continued theorizing. "Maybe the engineer knew he'd be punished if his research turned out unprofitable or... unmanageable."

"That still sounds like we're stuck in the middle of something, Cupcake," I pointed out.

"Investigate, or find the surface?"

"That's easy," I deadpanned, staring him down. "I don't give a flying fuck about seeds, GFs, or whatever the fuck else, as long as they stay the hell out of my way. We avoid the GF room and we find the surface."

"It's shorter if we go through. There are emergency staircases to the east."

_Son of a..._

"I personally don't want to run into these escaped beasties, Cupcake, and I'm sure you'd rather keep that pretty little head of yours attached to your shoulders as well. No shortcut. We circle round."

I took great pleasure in towering over the little firecracker, his pale eyes now blazing at the mention of him and _pretty_ in one sentence. Oh, he was too _easy_. "You hold on to that toothpick of yours, Cupcake, and _stay on course_. We've got three more floors to climb."

I watched with no little satisfaction as the brunet clenched his jaw and set out in the direction I'd demanded. I wasn't about to give up ground, just because this shrimp knew how to take out a pathetic civilian.

Heh. _Civilian_. Odd choice of thought. As opposed to what exactly? Military? I frowned as I strode back out into the hallway as well, heading west. I sure as hell was no military man, that much I knew. If Cupcake hadn't offed that little twerp, _I_ would have. Weren't cops or soldiers supposed to show more restraint, or remorse for that matter?

No, I definitely wasn't a military guy. I grinned. Secret agent, now that seemed more like it. That, or a crook. A hired gun maybe, or a bodyguard. I sure had the build for any of those career paths, and with some stretch of the imagination, all of them could've possibly landed me in this shitty situation. I pondered for a moment on the peculiar fact that I was able to picture myself on both the "good" and the "bad" side. Perhaps I didn't believe in the distinction.

As I took a better look at the brunet who was now stalking the hallway in front of me, doggedly determined and not once looking back to see if I was following, my grin grew more lopsided. I sincerely doubted I was that little shit's bodyguard. He was pissed off alright, but the man's rear view looked wholly unintimidating—not quite the cold shoulder he was probably imagining it to be. Hell, at least I wasn't bored.

"Hey, Cupcake. I gotta say, that overall is doing wonders for your ass."

I immensely enjoyed the sight of stiffening shoulders and the incredulous glare that was thrown my way.

"Please do keep going. Not my fault you've got that... _walk_."

Ah, _there_. Those thin eyebrows plunged downward in a dangerous scowl, the man's glare so icy I could practically feel it.

"_Shut. Up_."

"Live a little, Cupcake. For all we know, we'll be dead the moment we round that corner. If your ass is the last ass I'll see, I'll damn well enjoy it."

A thrill ran up my spine as the man turned on his heels and strode straight for me, his hand not on that ridiculous toothpick but balled into a fist.

"Try me," he repeated in a low hiss, staring up at me and not seeming the least bit bothered by the added height I had on him.

The hairs on my arms stood on end and I could only laugh. "You're cold, Cupcake," I said lowly. "Don't like the attention?" The breath of my words frosted in the air, lingering between us. "Fuck," I cursed, clasping my hands together to rub some warmth into them. "Is it me, or is it getting cold in here?"

A peculiar look entered Cupcake's eyes. He frowned, his gaze flickering back to where we'd been heading, and to my disappointment, his tight fist loosened.

"Don't worry, Cupcake. I'll keep you warm."

But the provocation only managed to coax a small glare from the smaller man, his attention already elsewhere. Turning away from me, he broke into a jog.

"Hey!"

Letting out a string of curses, I ran after the bastard, not at all reassured by the patterns of ice that were starting to materialize along metal doors and glass as we drew nearer to whatever Cupcake was after.

"Would you fucking stop?!" I yelled, but I got no reaction. "Remember those two guys from earlier? Frozen solid? Very, very _dead_?"

But before I could tackle the little shit into submission, we both spotted her at the same time and came to an abrupt halt. Holy fuck, now _she_ was different. Definitely easier on the eyes than the three-headed monster had been, but still definitely one of them.

"That's a GF, Cupcake, don't be mistaken," I hissed in warning, wondering if the blue-skinned woman had the brunet under some kind of spell.

Her eyes were the color of glaciers, her motions slow and graceful, as if she was coaxing ice into movement. Her modesty was barely covered by a sheer strip of fabric that clung to impossibly perfect curves. Her gaze was fixed on Cupcake, her lips curling into a smile and her hand stretching out to beckon him closer.

"Don't do it!"

Whatever words I said, I was sure now the brunet wasn't hearing me anymore. I rushed forward to yank the idiot back the moment he took a step towards her, but I was flung back and suddenly found myself sprawled onto the floor. I blinked, stretching the painful kinks out of my spine, and watched in horror to find a shimmering, nearly invisible barrier between me and Cupcake.

_A sorceress_.

I didn't know where the thought had come from, what to make of it, so I dismissed it. Whatever she was, this woman was not human. She was too tall, towering over the brunet as he stepped right up to her. There was confusion evident in his eyes, but he didn't seem afraid. _Idiot_.

"Get your ass back here!" I shouted, standing with my face a breath away from the force field. "I'm walking away, I swear!"

Neither of them seemed very bothered with me, or seemed to even notice me. The blue witch had a hand on Cupcake's shoulder, her fingers stroking affectionately and her head tilted to the side. Cupcake's lips were starting to turn blue, but he didn't show any sign of discomfort.

"I don't understand," he said, to the witch. "I don't know you. I don't know this _Griever_."

The witch shook her head softly, her eyes sad and her lips pursed, and it was then I realized they were communicating. _Not good. Definitely not good._

"_Cupcake_!" I bellowed, telling myself I was going to bail after this last attempt.

He finally turned his gaze to me, but only briefly. "What about him?"

The witch fixed her glacier eyes on me, smiling with a nod. She gestured to the east.

"Trapped?"

She nodded in answer to Cupcake's question.

"Okay, we'll get him back." He walked back towards the force field now, but I felt no relief.

"You've got to fight her, Cupcake," I hissed. "Don't let her in like that." I couldn't explain away the constricting fear. I didn't know why it was so important, why the mere thought of letting that _thing_ control his mind made bile rise to the back of my throat.

Something in my face must've gotten through to the smaller man. He stopped just a few inches from where I was standing, and held up his hands in the universal sign of "I mean you no harm."

"It's fine. She's on our side."

I snorted, my every heartbeat pounding with adrenaline. One wrong move, and I would kill her. Somehow I would. "I'll be more inclined to believe that when she drops the force field."

Cupcake gave her a soft nod, and the witch considered me for a moment. Then the shimmering glow of energy disappeared.

He turned his gray-blue eyes on me again. "She's... mine, somehow," he tried to explain, struggling with words. "She says she'll help us, that she's always helped us." He shook his head with a slight frown. "It's hard to explain. She doesn't use words the way we do."

"_Yeah_, I noticed that," I bit out. I squared my shoulders and walked up to the smaller man, all the while keeping an eye on the witch. I lowered my voice, urging. "All I see, Cupcake, is how she's got you doing what she tells you to. You've got more fight in you than that."

He shook his head. "_She_ does what _I_ tell her to."

"Really now? Let's see if she can do cartwheels, then," I sneered. That earned me a glare, from both of them. "No? No cartwheels? How about a back flip, hm?"

"Would you listen?" Cupcake hissed, grabbing my arm now. "These GFs—some of them are _ours_."

"_Ours_?" I laughed, pulling my arm free. Of all the bullshit, that one was _rich_. "Last time I checked, Cupcake, two of them tried to attack us!" I gestured wildly to the blue-skinned witch. "How can you know she won't?"

"The dog did. Not the lion. She says he's mine."

"_He_? _It_ tried to tear your cell down!" I yelled in outrage.

"Yes, to free me."

I shook my head, unable to believe what I was hearing. "It's been fun, Cupcake, but you're on your own now. Enjoy the honeymoon," I bit out, waving my hands between the two of them. "I'm out of here."

"Your GF needs your help."

"Good luck with that." I turned to walk away from all the madness, but as soon as I started back the other way, the witch moved faster than my eyes could track. She towered in front of me, blocking my path and staring me down with those hypnotizing eyes. A flash of poisonous yellow surged through my mind, but the imagery disappeared as quickly as it had come. The eyes of this witch were different... _gentle_.

I shook my head. That was how she'd gotten to Cupcake. She stretched out her hand the same way she had to him. I recoiled from her touch, but she was too fast, and swiftly—almost unobtrusively—she planted something in my head before retreating. A scorching image of flame and power.

I gasped for air, my breath frozen in my lungs. I felt almost ill at the unwanted intrusion, but the message had been received. _Ifrit_.

"Now you understand?"

I looked at Cupcake and nodded tersely, my jaw drawn tight. Hell, I didn't understand anything at all. All I knew was that this Ifrit creature was in trouble—and _mine_. I walked up to the witch and fixed her with a narrow-eyed stare. "Do that one more time, and I _will_ kill you." My anger ran hot, my fists itching with the irrational need to cause her just as much discomfort as she had me.

She merely smiled in approval and burst into a stream of ethereal light and energy, moving swiftly _into Cupcake_. He drew in a shuddering breath, his eyes now wide with surprise and frozen over with the same glacier-like depths as hers.

I could only gape. "What the _fuck_..."

The moment I saw him stumbling, I ran forward to catch his arm and haul him upright. "You alright?" Well, that came out sounding more obviously concerned than I would have liked.

Cupcake didn't seem to notice and simply nodded. "Didn't expect it," he forced out, rubbing at his temples. "I think...I think I can use her powers." He looked at me, his eyes still that eerie color. I much preferred the normal gray-blue.

"Whatever you say, Cupcake. Now let's scram." I started towards the east, back where we'd come from.

The name planted in my head beckoned me and promised power—the swift and devastating kind. It was as if the witch had wrought a chasm in me, reminding me of something lost, and I was hungry to regain it. I felt almost giddy with the sensation of it as I ran headlong down the hallways, my courage bolstered by the sound of Cupcake's footsteps right behind me.

I understood now why he had run like a man possessed after his witch.

"Did she tell you what we're running into here?" I threw over my shoulder, not looking back.

"No. Just that he's stuck in that room."

"Going in blind it is then," I grumbled, but I felt no true concern. _Nothing_ stood between me and what was rightfully mine. We skidded around one corner and then another, and all the while I could _feel_ we were drawing closer. There was no need to ask Cupcake's witch for directions, because I knew exactly where to go.

I paid little attention to the sudden increase in corpses, dead men strewn about the closer we drew to my goal. The walls were perforated with bullets, and if I hadn't already known my course, the splattering of blood would have provided it for me. Whatever monsters had torn through here were long gone, but they had left plain enough traces of their unnatural savagery.

Scorch marks along every possible surface hinted at a type of violence more powerful than bullets, and some of the beasts had left claw marks in their escape. One dead man was floating mid-air, trapped in a crackling sphere of bright energy. The sight of it was enough to draw my gaze, but I didn't stop running.

One final stretch of hallway later, we finally came upon the right place. Its metal door, similar but bigger than the one of the room where we'd found the engineer, stood open wide in invitation. Beyond it, I could sense the source of my elation. My heart roared as I moved to charge in.

A tight grip on my collar yanked me back, the restraining move successful only because it had taken me by surprise. I swiveled around wild-eyed, my right hand raised in a fist. The hit would have landed if not for the flash of widening pale eyes. Sidestepping clumsily to divert the momentum of my blow, I stumbled with my back against the wall and sucked in a deep breath. Inexplicable rage thrummed through my veins, edged with fire.

Cupcake moved to stand in front of me, but I just stared at his feet, not meeting his eyes lest I somehow incite the anger to a blaze again.

"Why the _hell_ did you—" As quickly as I hissed out the words, his hand shot out to cover my mouth and muffled the rest of my complaint.

"_Shut up_," he whispered, jerking his head to the open doorway. "We're not alone."

Wrenching his hand away from me, I scowled at him and then at the door. Ifrit was just beyond it and he was _irate_. But then the muted conversation filtered through; the nervous pacing, the subtle but unmistakable sound of trigger-happy hands that checked and double checked the readiness of semi-automatic guns.

I blinked and regained some of my caution, pressing myself closer to the wall, next to Cupcake and out of sight. It was dumb luck we hadn't been spotted. Clearly not trusting me yet, Cupcake held out a staying hand and turned his head to better overhear our enemy.

"That's suicidal," an uncertain voice complained. "You can't be serious."

"It's the only way to regain control of the facility. We take them back in. One by one." That one had to be the leader. Not a particularly deep or mature voice, but imbued with authority all the same.

"Sir, there's too few of us left. The clever ones are long gone, but the berserker ones won't stop until we're all dead."

"We still have our weapons, and between all of us, there's enough to junction one each."

"_No_." A firm denial—the third voice was laden with disgust. "I'm _not_ becoming the very thing we're fighting!"

A blow sounded, followed by the crash of a body to the floor and pained whimpering.

"Shut up and do as I say!" the leader's voice boomed. "What matters is our goal. If I have to accept the taint of those monsters to reach that goal, then that's exactly what I'll do! We've come too far to stop now."

A fourth, calm voice joined in. "Not all of us will succeed. Some of us will lose our minds. Some of the remaining GFs may escape in the attempt."

"We'll have to risk it. It's either this, or die. And I'm not through until all of Garden is destroyed."

Another set of voices grumbled whispered complaints, close enough to the door for us to hear, but out of earshot of their leader.

"He'll get us all killed."

"Shhhh. Be smart. Wait until last. Someone will mess up the junction. That'll be our opening to get out."

"Peters, you're up first!" the leader ordered.

A quiet "_fuck_" was the only comment the disloyal instigator could muster, before I heard the shuffling of reluctant footsteps and the rearranging of twitchy hands on guns.

I glanced at Cupcake. _Nine_, he mouthed to me.

_More_, I mouthed back. There had been several sets of footsteps leading to the back, belonging to men who clearly didn't wish to get involved in the argument.

Cupcake nodded calmly, but then his silvery eyes widened and seemed to glow brighter. He tapped a finger against his temple. "They want to use them. Like this," he whispered, abandoning the caution of mouthing one-word replies.

I frowned. "So?"

Cupcake shook his head in frustration. "To use their powers," he hissed urgently.

"Bad?"

He nodded gravely. "We have to move. _Now_."

_Right_. Tackling a room full of armed men it was. But instead of trepidation, I felt a wicked grin split my lips. In the back of my mind, angered snarls urged me on. I allowed the beast's rage at being imprisoned by such worthless creatures quicken my blood.

I inched closer to the doorway and peered inside. Eleven men, two women, all armed to the teeth. The coward's friend was sitting closest to me, watching with morbid curiosity as a gangly man set aside his weapons and placed his hands on a strange console. His face was pinched, beads of sweat on his face.

"I don't think it likes it, Sir," the man ground out between clenching teeth. His arms were starting to tremble.

"Keep going!"

I suppressed the urge to snort. These men were a sorry excuse for fighters. All of them were watching the unfortunate man and his fumbling attempts to do _something_, their attention slackened. None of them spotted me.

The coward's friend first, I decided. Behind me I heard Cupcake's steady breathing, his tightly coiled adrenaline a tangible thing. Both of us were as ready as we'd ever be.

Not expecting Cupcake to lend me his knife to do the job, I flexed my fingers and slipped inside quietly. Before anyone noticed me, I'd already snapped the man's neck and cushioned the drop of his dead weight with one arm.

As his body slipped to the floor soundlessly, I heard a soft gasp—the sound much like air forced from someone's lungs. I wasted a second looking to my right, where Cupcake's knife came away bloody from another gauged throat. He didn't bother masking the sound of the dropping body, dancing out of the way as a torrent of bullets pelted the air around him.

"So much for stealth, huh, Cupcake!" I bellowed, drawing enough of the fire to me so that the smaller man could dive for cover.

"Kill them!"

It was a fortunate thing the room was just as littered with equipment as the engineer's hideout had been, providing plenty of ducking space. The blackout hadn't spared the room either, the faint emergency light playing out to our advantage and shrouding us in shadows.

"Over there, in the back! Shoot straight, you fuckheads!"

The leader had good reason to be pissed off. These fuckers were lousy shots, their semi-automatics not even coming close to make up for their shitty aim. I grinned, ducking low as I ran behind a series of consoles, similar to the one the gangly coward had now abandoned in favor of his gun.

Unfortunately for him, Cupcake was making quick work of one of the stragglers in the back, drawing everyone's attention and fire. He registered only as a blur of movement in my peripheral vision, my own gaze steady on the coward.

Dashing out of cover, I utilized all of my momentum to grab him by the throat and slam him hard into the ground. Not having the time to choke the man, I sank my fingers down with crushing force, snapping bone and cartilage. My other hand had already closed around his semi-automatic, just in time for me to firmly plant its handle into the gut of the man who had come up behind me.

I placed another blow to the man's temple, knocking him out, and then I was ducking for cover again. Orders and panicked cries were drowned out by gunfire. These men cracked under duress, their shooting panicked and all over the place.

"Having fun yet, Cupcake?!"

I hardly had to feign the manic enthusiasm that incensed my voice as I circled round and emptied the gun into the room with random bursts of fire, further riling up these suckers. Close-up combat suited me far better than marksmanship anyway.

"For _fuck_ sake, do I have to do everything myself?!"

I chanced a peek around the corner of my cover to take stock of the situation. It seemed like the leader was the only one who could still tell his arse from his head amidst all the chaos, the man now taking position by one of the consoles.

"Stop him!" Cupcake's voice sounded from the other side of the room.

I wasted precious seconds locating him, the smaller man's attention no longer on me but on the man currently trying to strangle him. Another torrent of fire stopped me from crossing over to him, but I shouldn't have worried. Cupcake jammed his elbow into his assailant's solar plexus, twisting around violently and forcing the man to loosen his hold. Next thing, the man was shoved in front of Cupcake as a shield, taking a salvo of friendly fire.

"The leader!" Cupcake yelled again.

Cries of "Protect the general!" and "Don't let him near!" were the immediate follow-up to Cupcake's prompt. Next to the console, a familiar charge of light and energy was starting to envelop their leader.

_Fucking great_.

Not having the luxury to wait for a break in the enemy's fire, I ducked from cover and ran low. I was knocked back a step by a harsh impact to the shoulder, but I gritted my teeth and pushed on, plowing into the "general" with little finesse. We landed on the floor in a jumbled heap, and I only barely managed to roll onto my left side, minding the injury to my shoulder.

Above us, a sound much like a clap of thunder resounded—loud enough to send my ears ringing. For a moment there was only blackness as smoke curled up in a thick cloud and plunged us all in darkness. Then there was an angered deep growl, neither human nor animal.

A huge, clawed hand shot out from the dense smoke and crushed the general beside me without effort. Eyes blacker than coal gleamed in the dark. I scrambled back, my feet slipping in the general's entrails and blood.

For one surreal instant, the room was absolutely silent as the smoke thinned and the huge beast unfurled its black, bat like wings and beat them once with a sonic boom. The next moment, all hell broke loose. The sight of their leader being reduced to a bloody pulp had done nothing to instill some sense of order into the enemy's ranks, and they were now shooting indiscriminately.

Not that it mattered much. What little bullets that managed to hit their target simply ricocheted off the creature's black skin. The GF lashed out with amazing speed, tearing through one man and throwing another against the far wall with a sickening thud. Neither survived.

Pushing up to my feet, I ran to where I'd last seen Cupcake, my head tucked down.

"Now's a good time to start using that witch's powers, Cupcake!" I shouted when I found him squatting down behind one of the consoles.

He wasn't given time to answer however, one of the fighters suddenly dropping into cover right next to us. The man's eyes widened at the sight of us, but when the death cry of yet another of his comrades filled the room, he decided to take his chances with us and raised his gun.

I kicked my foot into the man's arm, the salvo of fire missing Cupcake and me by a hair's breadth. Cupcake rushed past me, planting his knife into the man's right eye socket and driving it deep into the man's skull. As he yanked his knife free, I quickly reached out to drag him back into cover beside me.

"_The witch_," I repeated. "Can't she do something?"

Cupcake frowned, shaking his head. "I don't remember _how_."

"_Improvise_, Princess. That thing isn't going to let us go."

My words were instantly proven true when the console that had provided our cover was suddenly lying in a wiry mess to our right. Rolling out of the way simultaneously, we only _just_ managed to dodge the spiked tail that tore a deep gash into the concrete floor between us.

A burst of black energy darkened the room once again, the edges of the dark chasm licking at my heels as I scrambled to my feet and ran. It sapped the very strength from me, my every tendon and muscle trembling with effort as I tried to pull free from the immense gravitational pull.

Somewhere behind me I heard a pained grunt and the loud thud of a body impacting against concrete.

_Cupcake_.

I couldn't afford to look back and ascertain whether the smaller man was still alive. I broke free from the dark spell with an enraged snarl and ran for the one console that had been out of my reach before. There were fighters left to keep us apart, and finally I slammed my hands down onto the console's surface.

Ifrit roared to life in my mind, raw energy surging from the machine to me. Ifrit's fire colored my vision red, forging me into something more lethal than mere man.

I turned around, locking gazes with the creature as it abandoned the unmoving form at its feet and charged at me. Everything became a blur of uncontrolled anger. Ifrit's promise of revenge sent my hand out flying from my side and a tight ball of white hot fire hurled forward, straight into the dark GF's chest.

The creature staggered, and before it could launch another attack, I cast a second and third spell. The fire ate right through its black, leathery skin, consuming its wings as swiftly as burning paper. The GF screeched in pain, its tail lashing out wildly and showering the room with concrete debris.

Hissing, the beast focused its beady eyes on me and raised a clawed hand. A black sphere of pure gravity was starting to form, its power already pulling at me.

I instinctively reached to my hip, only to be reminded my weapon was gone. I cursed and started to ready another spell, but the black demon actually _smirked_, baring razor sharp, blackened teeth.

I was too late.

Steeling myself for the inevitable, I was caught off guard when a streak of white light rushed towards the demon. Upon impact it solidified around the GF's arm in large crystalline shapes, knocking the gravity spell off target. The black energy tore through walls and support beams, pulling concrete and steel into its grasp before it disappeared out of sight. The whole complex shuddered in response.

I snapped my head to the source of the spell, a thrill surging through me at the sight of Cupcake propping himself upright. His forehead was bloody with a nasty gash, but he was alive. He let his arm fall back to his side and swayed, clearly far from recovered, but he'd given me the opening I needed.

The demon was screeching and spitting dark speckles of energy, clawing at the arm that was encased in ice. Seizing the opportunity, I charged towards the GF and snatched up a piece of wrought steel from the floor along the way.

The dark GF realized my intention too late. Swinging the steel bar to create momentum, I brought it down full force and shattered the frozen limb into a rain of black and red shards. The resulting cry of outrage was ear-piercing.

Dodging another lash of the demon's spiked tail with inhuman speed, I ran towards Cupcake and skidded down next to him on the floor. Jarring my injured shoulder as I threw my body over his, I ignored his grunt of complaint and called out Ifrit.

The whole room was caught in an instant blaze, intense heat washing up against the flimsy shield I'd created to shelter Cupcake from the onslaught. Strengthening it as best as I could, I bent down closer over Cupcake's tensed form.

Concrete blackened and steel melted as Ifrit stepped out of a whirl of hissing and boiling lava. Unable to look away, my pulse soared with euphoria as I laid eyes on my fire demon for the first time.

"Hell yeah!" I roared. "Finish that motherfucker!"

Flexing its muscles, the horned chimera glanced at me and bared its impressive fangs—an eager acknowledgement.

The black demon cradled the stump of its arm close, beady eyes rolling wildly in their sockets as the creature lashed out its tail again.

Ifrit's low rumble shook my eardrums and with amazement I watched him snatch the whipping tail mid-air without effort, a charge of pure heat running along its length from where Ifrit had grabbed it, incinerating the appendage instantly.

The dark GF cried out and started to gather another sphere of dark energy at its remaining claw, but Ifrit didn't let up. Ramming the demon into the ground, he raised a talon and drove it down into the GF's chest with a deafening roar. Fire ate away at the edges of the wound as Ifrit pulled back, the demon's mouth and eyes bleeding red, hot lava. Twisting in one final moment of agony, the screeching GF burst into a bright stream of energy.

_"Fuck_."

Before I'd even finished the curse, the demon's dark essence shot towards me and slammed into place with all the delicacy of a sledgehammer.

/_Master_,/ the demon accepted grudgingly, before quieting at the back of my mind and licking its wounded pride.

Reeling, I shook my head to clear it, but the feeling of something utterly foreign residing in my mind persisted, not at all like Ifrit's presence.

I looked up to lock gazes with the chimera and nodded him my thanks, before he too became a brilliant flow of light that coursed into me. There were no words of acknowledgement from him—only a sense of disappointment that the fight had been over far too quickly.

"I said _get off me_!"

Remembering my surroundings, I looked down at the pissy brunet who was currently trying to twist out of my protective hold. I smirked, only pushing up far enough to let him turn to face me.

Cupcake's silvery eyes fixed me with a nasty glare, his face flushed and his bangs matted to his forehead with sweat and blood. My smirk grew.

"No kiss for your knight in shining armor?"

I rolled off of Cupcake just in time to dodge the bony knee aimed for my crotch. _No gratitude, _I thought with a snort. The smaller man scrambled away from me as if burnt. I leaned back, my gaze tracking the descent of a drop of sweat down the brunet's pale neck.

"Not my fault you're looking a bit hot under the collar there, Cupcake."

The man gave me an incredulous look. "This place is an _oven_," he intoned, eyeing up the destruction all around us.

Okay, so maybe it _was_ my fault. The room was still smoldering, its walls blackened. Steel beams that had been wrenched free from reinforced concrete during the fight were now red, hissing puddles. Any and all equipment that had been in the room was either incinerated, charred or molten. Only the small space within my shield remained untouched.

High on victory and relief that Cupcake was well enough to glare a hole into my forehead, I let the post-battle euphoria wash over me. Dispelling the shield and falling backwards with sprawled arms, I ignored the increasingly painful throb of my injury and broke into unrestrained laughter.

Beside me Cupcake looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "We need to move."

Catching my breath after a few last hiccups of laughter, I met his gaze and grinned. "Admit it. That was _amazing_." I pushed up and leaned in close. "You and me, Cupcake, we're invincible."

Cupcake gave me a level look, before ruthlessly poking his finger into my shoulder. White hot pain shot through it, causing me to jerk back and further aggravate the gunshot wound.

"What the _fuck_!" I cursed, but Cupcake looked wholly unfazed. _Fucking killjoy. _"Remind me to leave your sorry ass behind next time," I muttered, holding my shoulder stiffly.

"We can't stay here. The place is coming down. The fire on the lower levels is spreading. That—" he said, pointing at the gaping hole that took up most of the south wall, "—didn't help."

I glared. "How the _fuck_ can you know that."

"Griever has been scouting, finding us a way out. Shiva communicates with him."

"The lion?"

Cupcake nodded and stood to his feet, not entirely able to mask the slight sway to his moves.

"How's that head?" I asked in spite of myself, pushing up from the floor as well. Blood still trickled down from the gash to his right temple.

Hesitating for a heartbeat, Cupcake glanced at me. "Probably concussed," he relented, looking away again and heading for the doorway rather unsteadily.

Jogging after him, I held him back by the shoulder. "Let me take a look," I ordered, but my hand was immediately slapped away.

"We can tend to our wounds when we're out of here," he bit out, pulling himself free and almost stumbling backwards because of the abortive move.

_Fucking stubborn_—

"Fine. Have it your way," I said with narrowed eyes, hoisting my left arm around his waist in spite of his instant protestations.

"_Let. Go_," he hissed. "I can walk!"

"I don't think so, Cupcake. You're too slow right now and we need to move fast if that witch of yours is right."

A muttered "bastard" left his lips, but then he was shifting his weight into me.

I smirked at him and received a foul glare in return.

"Just _go_ already."

"As you command, Cupcake." I started east, compensating for the man's balance problems and my own bust shoulder as best as I could.

"About earlier—I take back the offer," I said when we'd cleared the first few hallways. The brunet quirked an eyebrow at me.

"You're a bit too high-maintenance for me after all."

"Whatever," the brunet muttered, directing his icy gaze to stare stubbornly ahead of us.

I grinned. Somehow that petulant reply was the most pleasing thing to have come out of Cupcake's mouth yet. As I guided us past rubble and missing sections of floors, an increasing amount of tremors shaking the complex, I refused to despair. As long as the ceiling didn't come down on our heads and I had an uptight asshole to pester, things were looking up.

* * *

**Author's Note:** [31st of March, 2014] Thanks for reading the second chapter of this story! My aim for this story was to write something a little less heavy and a little more action-based than "Into Esthar" (my collaboration with Chemotaxis, over on her page), so here's to hoping that you're on board with the premise. Amnesia-fics aren't exactly new to the world of fanfic, but I felt like having a crack at the trope and exploring the consequences it might result in for Squall and Seifer. As you might've noticed, each chapter will be from either Seifer's or Squall's point of view (except for the very last chapter, which will feature both). The next chapter is coming soon!


	3. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

**Chapter Three - Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire**

* * *

"Would you tell that fucking _mutt_ to sit still for a minute?"

I glanced up from my study of the blond's injury and regarded Griever. My attention was immediately rewarded with a deep amber gaze, the lion deferring to my command much as he had since the moment he'd joined us.

_All is well_, his mind conveyed to mine, before the winged lion continued to amble along its patrol, drawing wide, protective circles around me and the disgruntled blond.

"He's standing guard," I said with a shrug.

"If you've noticed, Cupcake, it hasn't been _standing_. That damned mutt has been looking at me like I'm dinner, and quite frankly, its stalking is creeping me the hell out. Tell it to _sit_ _the fuck_ _still_. Better yet—" he intoned, jarring his shoulder to point at me accusingly, "—put it back in your head where it can't bother me."

I rolled my eyes at the blond's dramatics. The man didn't need to know my head was still feeling too tender to let a second entity take up residency in it. "He's standing guard so I can take a look at this. We don't know where the other escaped GFs are. We're not safe."

We might have cleared the underground complex before its collapse, but we were no better off out in the open. We had made it only a little ways off the hidden entrance of the complex when it had started to collapse completely, taking down nearly a half mile radius of cracked earth and rock with it into a massive sink hole. We'd only barely outrun it.

What we could see of our environment once the dust had settled wasn't the least bit encouraging. A vast plain of grayish-brown rock stretched in all directions, and above it all, a blistering sun that charred the earth dry. Even the sky seemed yellow with the dust that hung in the air. The only sign of life I'd detected so far were the large birds circling above—most likely scavengers looking forward to their next meal.

The blond grunted out his dissatisfaction, not sounding very impressed with our predicament either. "I'm _fine_—it's just a scratch. Think you should be more worried about that head of yours."

"Your wound is still bleeding. My head isn't. If we leave you like this, expect either infection, loss of consciousness or dehydration. Blood is water." I gestured at our surroundings to emphasize my point.

The man snorted out a laugh. "Didn't think you actually cared, Cupcake," he leered. "Here I thought you just wanted me out of my shirt." He leaned back suggestively on the rock he was perched on, the top part of his overall pooling around his waist.

I narrowed my eyes and yanked his shoulder straight again. With a small wince and a muttered "spoilsport," the blond relented and allowed me to ghost my fingers along the edges of the wound.

"What do you suggest then? We don't exactly have a first aid kit on hand here, Cupcake. Better to just leave it alone and start moving."

I shook my head. "The wound is clean enough—for now. Nothing vital hit. Clear exit wound. You're lucky I don't have to pull out the bullet."

"Yeah, _real_ fucking lucky," the man muttered. "Only a fucking gunshot wound."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Thought it was just a scratch?"

Reveling in the glare I coaxed out of the man after all he'd accosted me with, I resumed my diagnosis of the wound. "It isn't dangerous for now, but if I don't do anything about it, it'll cost you in the long run." I let my gaze drop to my knife, the only tool at hand, and considered our options.

"You better tell me why you're looking at your toothpick like that, Cupcake."

"You can conjure fire at will?" I asked to make sure. I knew now I could do so with ice. It had taken the blond to show me how during battle, but once I figured it out, it had come to me as easily as drawing breath. No doubt it was the same for the blond.

"...So what if I can?" he asked warily, his eyes narrowing.

"I have to cauterize the wou—"

"Hell if I let you poke around in my shoulder with that toothpick! Sorry Cupcake, but you'll have to think of something else."

"There _is_ nothing else," I intoned. "All we have is our clothes, the GFs and this knife."

I wiped the small weapon on the sleeve of my overall, removing the dried blood and dirt. The fire would destroy any remaining contaminants. "Try not to melt it," I said, holding the knife out to the blond.

I stood down the man's glare, until finally his gaze shot down to the knife. "You better be fucking sure about this."

"It's this or bleeding out slowly." Above us, the vultures cried out a helpful reminder.

After a final curse, the man's green eyes turned into a scorching red. Raising his hand to linger just beneath the knife, he focused until energy licked up from his palm, looking much like contained fire. Within seconds, the metal of the knife turned an angry red.

Not allowing the blond the luxury of changing his mind, I held the man's shoulder in place with a firm grip and pressed down the tip of the red-hot knife into his wound. Flesh hissed, the resulting smell nauseating.

"_Holy fucking_—" The blond swallowed his curse, his fingers digging into the rock he was sitting on. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow as he gritted his teeth against the pain.

I drew away the knife before any skin would stick to the heated metal, and examined the charred flesh. After a small prod that elicited another loud curse, the improvised cauterization withstood the pressure, the bleeding halted.

I moved around to his front, holding his shoulder steady once more. "Now this side." He gave me a terse nod, his intense gaze meeting mine before I quickly looked away. Better to be quick, than to feel sorry for the bastard.

Needing two long applications this time to char the entry wound closed, I withstood the blond's verbal abuse and worked as quickly as possible.

"There," I said with a final sigh, placing the knife on a large rock to cool off. "Go easy on your shoulder. Try not to reopen the wound."

"_No kidding_," the man bit out, giving his shoulder a slight testing move. "Fucking Hyne, that _hurt_."

"I'd disinfect and bandage it, but this'll have to do," I said, sitting down beside him on the large boulder. Next to me, the blond looked around him and then lifted his arms, as if considering something. Before I could protest, he tore off the sleeves of his overall.

"Use these," he ordered, holding out the relatively clean cloth.

"You'll get burned with this kind of sun," I pointed out, the sun beating down on us mercilessly.

He grinned, holding up his tanned arm to my pale hand. "It's hot alright, but I can handle it fine. Just do as I say."

Snatching the sleeves from his hand, I glared at him for good measure and started to rip up the fabric into thin bands. He simply chuckled, as if having a tan held some kind of victory over me.

"Idiot," I muttered as I wound the strips of fabric around his shoulder and chest with harsher tugs than was necessary.

"_Ouch_—careful there, Cupcake. Don't wanna damage the goods now."

Refraining from punching the smirk straight off his face, I continued the ungrateful task of binding up the bastard's injury. I didn't need the constant reminder that the man's physique was much more impressive than mine. Seated behind him, away from inquisitive green eyes, I frowned at the sharp contrast my hand provided against the broad, tan expanse of his back.

I shook my head, not about to let the guy play mind games with me. I might be slighter than him, but I was confident I could still kill the man if the need ever arose—and he knew it too. Taking consolation from that fact, I didn't rise to the man's next bait.

"Enjoying the view, Cupcake?"

"The scars are interesting," I replied conversationally, tying a last few knots to the makeshift bandages. "Makes me wonder."

The man preened under my words, flashing me a grin. "Oh yeah? What about?"

"Makes me wonder about your skill. Do you usually show your enemy your back, or did they sneak up on you?"

The change in the blond's expression was instant. "_Fuck _you too, Cupcake," he spat. "That's rich coming from a guy who went and got his pretty face cut up. Do you _usually_ not notice a blade when it's right in your fucking face?"

I frowned. "My face?"

"Yeah, wiseass, your _face_—it's cut up like a birthday cake."

Unsure whether my unease was caused by vanity or by the blond's disgust, I immediately suppressed the feeling and brought up my fingers to touch my face.

"Shit, you take the fun out of _everything_, don't you," the blond complained, looking at me with narrowed eyes. He snatched my hand and placed my fingers on the bridge of my nose. "There. It's an older scar. Probably cut to the bone by the look of it."

I frowned, feeling the scar crinkle in reaction. It was a thin line, running down from my forehead across the bridge of my nose—_identical_ to the one on the blond's face. I met the man's gaze, uncertain what this meant.

"_Fuck_, aren't you the vain one. _Relax_, Cupcake, you're still the belle of the ball," he sneered, rolling his eyes.

"You have the same scar," I pointed out to him with a glare.

"Come off it," he said stupidly, but his hand was already on his face. His eyes widened when his fingers found the slanted scar. "What the _fuck_?"

I shrugged, not any more knowledgeable than him. "Coincidence?" I offered, not really convinced.

He barked out a harsh laugh. "I don't think so, Cupcake. You and me, locked up together in those cells—that was no coincidence either."

He looked at me expectantly, as if I should finish his thoughts for him. When I didn't, he threw his hands skywards in frustration.

"We're _partners_!" he declared, waving his hand between the two of us. "_Think_ about it, Cupcake. It makes sense."

My stomach responded to that statement with an uneasy drop, before my brain caught up. Partners _in crime_—colleagues of a sort. Keeping my face straight, I forestalled coming to a conclusion myself.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you haven't thought about it," the blond exclaimed, getting excitable. "We've got too much in common for it to be random! We're both fighters, close-combat specialists too."

"...You noticed."

"I'd have to be blind not to. I'm certain we use the same weapon—buckled at the hip, right? Probably a sword or something. Feels like I'm naked without it."

I found myself nodding in agreement, both wanting to hear more and afraid to give credence to the man's words.

"So we use the same weapon. We're fucking lethal, and we _both_ have monsters lodged in our heads," the blond continued, tapping a finger to his temple. "It must be why we were locked up together. Think about it, maybe we belong to those seeds or whatever the engineer was babbling about."

That was a far leap to make. I frowned in thought, considering the man's suggestion. "You're saying we're from the same organization—the enemy of these people?"

"Captured in an unfair fight, probably. We could've killed them all, without the supernatural help." The blond leaned closer, grinning. "Remember the engineer's reaction when he saw us? Right after telling us he was scared shitless of _seeds_. It fits, Cupcake."

It was one possible explanation of the facts, but not necessarily the only one. I teetered on the edge of indecision—it would be a dangerous choice to trust this man more than I already had. On the other hand, he'd saved my life more than once now.

"Seed, then? That's what you think?"

The blond huffed impatiently, clearly wanting my endorsement. "_I_ think that we are partnered up—a team. Maybe for this seed organization, who the fuck knows, but we're compatible, Cupcake." Upon seeing my frown, he immediately plowed on, not letting me voice any doubts.

"I'm the brawn, you've got speed. I use fire, and your glare alone can turn a man's nuts to ice. We've got the same scars—that _has_ to be some kind of sign." He regarded me with an impassioned look as he delivered his final verdict. "We work together _perfectly_. Don't you dare deny it."

_Perfectly_ would not have been the word I'd have chosen. More often than not the bastard annoyed me or fought my decisions, but I kept my mouth shut. Whether he was right or not, it served me a lot better to have the man think us partners.

His eyes narrowed when I didn't reply, but instead of pursuing the matter further, he looked away to take in the rock desert around us.

"You'll come round to my way of thinking, Cupcake. I _know_ when I'm right."

Glad enough the man was letting go of it for now, I joined him in his study of our inhospitable environment. It had been easy to determine which direction was north, but that didn't help us any with our utter lack of geographical knowledge. At least the position of the sun told us it was early afternoon—we still had plenty of daylight to burn.

Less than a mile to the west lay the ruins of the underground complex, but there was no point in returning that way. Everything was buried deep under rock, leaving nothing for us to salvage. There were faint tracks leading from the complex to the southwest however. Jeeps or other large vehicles had passed there not so long ago, probably from whoever had managed to escape. It wasn't even a proper road, but it seemed like our only viable option, even if it would only lead us to more enemies. Where there were people, there was water and food.

Having circled around for the umpteenth time, Griever reappeared to my left and perched down next to me. Again, he reassured me all was well. Through his eyes, he let me see he'd tracked down the trail of a small critter with a sharp scent, but it had disappeared into the earth. Alas, he hadn't brought back meat for the pack.

I let him sense my gratitude regardless and rested my hand on the large creature's neck, tangling my fingers in his fur. He sighed and rested his large head on the ground, welcoming the chance to doze off in the warm sun. What to me felt like scorching heat, was a comfortable warmth to him.

Next time he'd bring back a kill, he promised me. For the pack.

His loyalty rang true and there was no doubt between us, however ridiculous it seemed for me to be considered the alpha to this powerful beast. The two of us were a pack. I couldn't say the same for the blond sitting to my other side, the man casting me intermittent glances he thought I didn't notice.

_Do you think him and I are partners?_ I asked the lion. Griever and Shiva were the only ones who remembered me as I was before my amnesia.

Griever cracked open an eye, his gaze shifting between me and the blond. He let out a huff and closed his eyes again, admitting he wasn't sure. There was definitely recognition and respect there, but no sense of pack with the larger man.

I didn't bother asking Shiva, already having sensed her amusement throughout my exchange with Griever. At least she didn't seem to think the blond was a threat.

"Now _you_ are starting to creep me out, Cupcake," the blond interrupted my thoughts. "What the hell are you doing?"

I blinked, unsure what he meant. "Talking with Griever."

"You talk with him? Like, actual conversations?" he asked, looking at the lion with suspicion. Griever was wholly unbothered and continued to doze.

"Not with words, but yeah. He can show me things. I can sense his thoughts."

The blond huffed at that. "Ifrit is just sort of _there_. He's either calm or pissed off. No conversation from him."

"And the one you caught?" I asked, my curiosity stirred at discovering the experience wasn't the same for him.

"He's laying low for now. But I could definitely hear him talk when I just defeated him. You know, actual _speech_."

I quirked an eyebrow. Even Shiva, with whom I felt most connected, didn't speak to me in words.

"What did it say?"

The larger man looked at me, his lips curling into a smug smile. "_Master_—all proper and humble. You should try it sometime."

I rolled my eyes, keeping a calming hand on Griever who was now staring at the blond and contemplating a single snap to the man's neck. /_We're a pack_,/ I told him. /_For now./_ Griever huffed at the notion of temporary loyalty, but acquiesced.

"You keep a leash on that pet of yours, Cupcake," the blond said with an insufferable smirk. "Seriously though," he added in a more conversational tone. "You need to call me _something_. You can't be the only one privileged with a name."

"Cupcake is _not_ a name."

"You are so calling me _asshole_ in that head of yours, aren't you?" he said, as if it was an accomplishment. "How about Gorgeous? Or Handsome?"

"_Bastard_ suits you better."

The man stifled a smile. "Hyne, you're a pissy one. Seems you've still got that stick lodged firmly in place." But then he regarded me more levelly. "How's the concussion?"

"...Just lightheaded. I'll be fine with some rest."

"The one thing we can't afford," he grumbled, his gaze on my injury. "We can't be here when night falls. There's no shelter, no water. Who knows what'll come out to play after sunset."

"I know," I said, pushing up from my rock. Griever immediately followed by my side. "You ready to go?" I said, nodding at his shoulder.

"As ready as I'll ever be without painkillers," the blond grunted, falling in step with me along the fading jeep tracks.

We quickly left the ruins of the underground complex behind us, our surroundings an endless monotony of rusty yellow rocks and dust. The sun beat down on us mercilessly, my throat growing croaky and my lips cracking from the dry air. I literally couldn't remember the last time I'd had something to eat or drink, but judging by the way my stomach clenched, I knew our captors hadn't bothered.

Griever never strayed far from me, his gaze evenly divided between me and the horizon. With an unspoken agreement, the bastard and I took point in turns. Neither of us spoke as we made our way southwest. The jeep tracks were easy enough to discern, but their path wasn't a simple one, circling around hills and craters alike, obstructed by sharp rocks and large boulders. To top things off, my ill-fitting boots offered little grip on the difficult terrain.

The otherworldly landscape was far more treacherous than I'd first assumed. Some stones crumbled into sand when stepped on, creating rockslides. Deep cracks in the earth were hidden beneath gravel and rock. It seemed like the men steering the jeeps had known the land, their winding path avoiding both visible and invisible obstacles. We quickly learned not to cut corners.

The crunch of rock beneath our boots was the only sound besides the whistling of the wind between stone cracks. The hot gusts didn't offer much relief, blowing up dust and sand. We'd been walking for at least a few hours, but the landscape never changed.

A small distance away, the blond came to a halt atop a low hill of boulders and stared ahead. The frown on his face didn't bode well. Climbing up to join him, the man looked down at me and shook his head softly.

"The tracks. They're getting fainter." He looked around him, the strong breeze mussing up his matted hair further. "Soon they'll be gone."

Moving to stand next to him, I hummed my agreement. "We continue southwest."

"They might've changed course at some point."

I shrugged and met his gaze, a flicker of red still discernible in the blond's eyes. "It's our best bet."

"_Fuck_," he cursed, dragging a hand through his short hair. "I don't know about you Cupcake, but I could use a drink. _Any_ drink." He looked at me again and frowned, stepping closer.

"You look like shit," he said, equal parts insult and concern. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm _fine_."

"Like hell you're fine," he countered, his frown growing. "The sun is doing one hell of a number on you, Cupcake. Your skin is turning red."

"A sunburn isn't going to kill me," I bit out, turning my back to him as I made my way back down the rocky hill. I'd figured out quickly that nothing grated at my nerves like misplaced concern.

The blond immediately followed after me. "No, but a sunstroke might."

I threw a glare over my shoulder, hating how the blond didn't seem to even flinch under the harsh sun. He was sweating, but his tanned skin gleamed golden. My own skin was starting to itch and burn, the coarse fabric of my overall chafing unpleasantly.

"Unless you've got water and sunscreen on you, I suggest you shut up and keep walking."

Behind me, the blond huffed but then let out a chuckle. "Wouldn't you _love_ that, a good lathering with sun lotion. I'm sorry, Cupcake, but I'm all out at the moment."

Sensing my irritation, Griever closed in next to me, his amber eyes fixed on the bastard in warning.

He only barked out a loud laugh in response. "The mutt afraid his master is going to elope with me?" he taunted, his lips curled in a wide smirk. "Well, I guess my backrubs _are_ that good."

Rolling my eyes, I continued southwest along the fast fading tracks.

"How about it, Cupcake. Once we're out of this hellhole, I'll let you give me one too."

Snorting at the tone that implied some kind of treat, I shot him an unimpressed look. "If you dare show your back to me. Not enough scars yet?"

The man's smirk only grew more lopsided. "I'm always up for a challenge."

Suddenly feeling like the banter was going off track somehow, I looked away and focused on the rocky terrain. The blond walked up right behind me, ignoring Griever's low growl.

"No teasing if you're not prepared to follow through, Cupcake."

The feeling of his breath against my neck had me tensing instantly. Jerking away from his close proximity, I swiveled around to glare at him.

Chuckling at my reaction, the bastard shrugged off the top part of his overall which he'd left hanging open at the buttons. Spotting my wide-eyed stare, he grinned and slowly tightened the belt around his waist.

"What are you doing," I demanded, frowning as he started to rip off the top part of his overall entirely.

"Come here," he ordered, fabric in hand.

I stayed in place, my pulse rising and my fingers twitching next to the knife.

"For _Hyne's_ sake," the man complained, rolling his eyes, but the amusement was never far away from his voice. "You look like the big bad wolf has come to eat you up." Moving faster than I'd anticipated, he shot forward and manhandled me in front of him.

Struggling against his one-armed iron hold, I wasn't able to break free as he pulled the fabric over my head.

"Stand the _fuck_ still," he hissed when I jostled his injured shoulder. "I'm trying to help here."

At the exasperated tone and loosened hold, the man apparently no longer finding his provocation worth the price, I stilled warily. My eyebrows climbed high when he started tugging and folding the fabric into place around my head, leaving fabric to hang down at the back and sides.

"That ought to keep your head cool a bit longer," he said with a huff, looking down at me.

I brought up a hand to touch the makeshift headdress. "You can't expose yourself to the sun like that."

The bastard smirked. "Apparently I can. Think Ifrit has something to do with it." His eyes flared up a bright red and a charge of red flames danced atop his open palm. "Fire and ice, remember? I'm afraid you got the short end this time, Cupcake."

I glared at the man's smug expression, but was unable to counter the infuriating logic to his words. He'd withstood the heat and drought with far more ease than was normal. Mindful of my injury, I adjusted the fabric a little and turned around, continuing down the rocky slope.

"No need to thank me!" the blond complained, but his voice betrayed his self-satisfaction.

Ignoring him, I continued along our path—a path that was quickly becoming more difficult to track. Needing only a mental nudge, Griever obeyed before I could even finish the thought, taking on the task of scouting ahead and finding us the easiest path.

The headdress kept the sun at bay only marginally, but at least my skin didn't feel like it was slowly roasting anymore. The difficult terrain however made it harder and harder to ignore my bruised muscles and empty stomach. The fight in the underground complex had taken its toll on us. The bastard held his shoulder stiffly, moving more gingerly down obstacles whenever he thought I wasn't paying attention.

Every once and a while, Griever looked back at us from the distance. I could sense his annoyance at our slow, human legs when he wanted nothing more than to run far away from this place.

I tried to keep track of the sun as it moved slowly across the rusty sky, but the repetitiveness of the landscape was starting to wear away at my sense of time. It felt like we'd been walking forever and I couldn't suppress the feeling of déjà vu: the dragging of feet, a growing lethargy, cracked earth, endlessly—

A slap on my shoulder snapped me back to reality—a much hotter, brighter version of the dark dream imagery. "Don't get lost in that head of yours."

The bastard's silhouette loomed over me, the sun a blinding halo that obscured all else. He didn't release his harsh grip on my shoulder, but I couldn't muster enough annoyance to shrug it off. I frowned. "We need to—we need to keep going."

"I called you four times," his dark shadow said. "You were miles away."

"...I'm fine," I croaked, my throat parched.

"Keep with the program, Cupcake. We'll stop when I find us a safe spot for the night."

I wanted to point out I hadn't asked to stop, but when he stepped away and took his shadow with him, the sudden onslaught of the baking sun made me wince. I had to blink a few times, my eyes painfully dry, before the blond came into focus. His green eyes were intent on me, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

"You just keep your eyes on me, okay Cupcake?" he said slowly, as if talking to a child. "Keep walking. I'll take care of the rest."

I would've glared at him if it wasn't for the perpetual squinting the sunlight had reduced me to. "Worry about yourself. I can walk fine," I bit out instead.

"I can see that," the blond scoffed. "I could get more mileage out of a drunk than you." He turned his back to me, continuing the endless march southwest.

Only then did I notice Griever lingering a few steps away. The lion had backtracked to see what the fuss was about, his large head tilted. _Not you too_, I scolded, to which the beast's amber eyes narrowed. He let out a low snort and shot off in the distance again.

I sighed at the snub and started into motion. My legs were heavy, my head spinning with lightheadedness, but I managed to follow the blond. His broad back and steady footfall were all that kept me on course.

Every other second he stopped to look behind him, his concern naked on his face. It aggravated me enough to ignore his outstretched hand the first time we encountered a particularly tricky rock face, but the reality of my condition caught up with me quickly and I grudgingly accepted his help.

Every step I took drained me further. A sharp pain throbbed against my skull relentlessly. I couldn't feel my feet anymore. I couldn't _think_ anymore, my head a jumble of images I couldn't place—another desert, another time...

"Okay, _that's it_," the blond's voice sounded, unexpectedly close. Startling, I looked next to me to find his one arm slung around my waist. "It's almost sunset, Cupcake. The terrain ain't changing, so we'll just have to keep going as long as we've still got sunlight. I wish we didn't have to camp out in the open, but it doesn't look like we have a lot of choice."

A soft touch to my hand alerted me to Griever's presence, his wet nose pressed close to gain my attention.

"You're gonna stick close from here on out, aren't you, Mutt?" the blond's voice sounded, and suddenly I registered we were moving again.

Griever snorted, his displeasure a vague impression in my mind, but the lion didn't stray from my side.

"I don't know if you can understand me, Mutt, but I need you to let me know if there's anything out there. I can't keep an eye on him and fight off whatever's out there at the same time." His words floated away from me, not meant for me anyway. I just wanted to stop...to lie down—

A harsh slap stung against my cheek, snapping my eyes open again. "Stay alert. Keep walking."

I tried to frown, but couldn't hold on to my annoyance. Snippets of words registered as the blond prattled on, pulling at the edges of my wakefulness.

"You know, this whole amnesia thing is getting on my nerves," he grumbled, shrugging me up in his hold. "Not _one_ anecdote I can bullshit about. Isn't that what people do? Bullshit about some random crap, keep the fucker focused?"

"Here I am, in the middle of fucking _nowhere_, hauling dead weight. You'll damn well owe me for this one, Cupcake." A chuckle sounded, the sound pleasant and throaty. "I think I'll take you up on that offer—a backrub would hit the spot right about now."

He jostled me after a brief moment of silence. "Really? No come back? Don't leave me hanging here, Cupcake."

"...Shut up," I ground out, wanting nothing more than peace and silence.

A loud bark of laughter rang in my ears, the bastard tightening his hold on me. "Keep that up and you'll be just fine."

"So... _topic_," he muttered, all the while dragging me upright, keeping me on my feet. I wanted to pull away, but all strength had left me. "Any touching stories to share, Cupcake?"

"Myeah, thought not," he huffed, kicking away a large rock that tripped up my feet. "_Fuck_, I'm starving. When we get out of here, I'm having a cold beer and a nice, juicy steak—medium rare... What about you, Cupcake?"

Another jostle. "Well?"

"Water," I croaked. Just water seemed perfect.

"You're seriously lacking in the imagination department, you know that?" he replied with a huff. "How about this. Name something else, _anything_ else, and it'll be my treat. No man's dying wish should be _water_. That's just depressing."

I wanted to point out I was nowhere near dying, but I couldn't get the retort past my dry throat.

"_Fine_, alright. You'll get all the fucking water you want, okay? I'll throw in a beer and steak, because I'm just that nice."

"That's food and booze covered. What else can two amnesiacs talk about."

It became more and more difficult to hang on to his words—their meaning failed to register with me, but I could still focus on his voice.

"How about women, huh, Cupcake?" He pulled me up again in his hold, and I no longer had it in me to protest the rough treatment. "Hyne, it's a crime I can't remember all the women I made scream," he chuckled arrogantly. "I'm sure as hell they remember _me_. Make that another thing to put down on my to-do-list."

"What about you, Cupcake?"

When I didn't reply, another stinging slap to my cheek brought me back from the haziness that was pulling me under. "I told you to stay with me, Cupcake!"

Wincing at the sudden loudness of his voice, I tried to blink my vision clear, but all I saw was encroaching darkness. The sky was turning red instead of the dry, hot yellow that had turned my lungs to sandpaper. "...Red..." I croaked out, fearing I was starting to hallucinate.

"Redheads, huh?" the bastard said with a bark of laughter. "Sure you don't prefer blonds?"

Confused, I shook my head. _No_—the sky... It was getting colder... Or _I_ was getting colder. Finally, lightheadedness claimed me, and the world tilted away in a maddening swirl.

* * *

**Author's Note:** [9th of April, 2014] First of all, sorry for the delay! I know the promise was one update a week, but I _did_ also gave a disclaimer for life possibly getting in the way :) The inlaws have been staying at my place for the past few days, and I haven't had a free moment until now ^^; Again, I want to thank everyone who reviewed! Your reviews and messages make my day, seriously! For those among you who are getting impatient for some actual romance, it's on its way ;) This is a SeiferxSquall yaoi fic alright, but I like building up the tension, hehe.


	4. Know Your Enemy

**~ Chapter Four - Know Your Enemy ~**

* * *

Throwing aside a rag that was stained with blood, I took a fresh piece of cloth and poured disinfectant on it. I groaned as I looked down at the angry wound on my shoulder. Cleaning off the worst of the dirt hadn't made it look any better. Cupcake's makeshift cauterization hadn't held completely, and some of the caked and burnt skin had split open again, oozing blood. The color of the wound didn't reassure me any either. Infection had set in.

Once more, I pressed the alcohol drenched cloth against the raw flesh and hissed between clenched teeth.

"_Motherfucking_—"

Pressing down hard, I shut my eyes and forced myself to count until ten before removing the cloth again. I inhaled deeply through my nose, breathing through the pain.

Lowering the cloth, I looked over to the bed where the brunet had stirred—no amount of cursing had awoken the man throughout the night. Relieved at the first sign of Cupcake coming back to, I leaned over in my chair and waited him out. The man's high temperature had dropped a few hours ago, and now the rise and fall of his chest quickened, his eyelids trembling before they finally opened.

"Welcome back!" I said loudly, grinning when the brunet nearly jackknifed off the bed. Clutching his temple at the unwise movement, it took him a while before he propped himself upright and met my gaze.

"You look like shit, Cupcake," I said conversationally, suppressing a smile at finally seeing him awake. The man truly _did_ look like shit. Any skin that had been exposed to the elements was colored an angry red, peeling in dry blotches. His lips were cracked; his eyes swollen and red. As a result, his glare was utterly unimpressive.

"Where are we?" he demanded, his gaze flitting around the nondescript motel room.

_Ever the difficult asshole_. "Knock down that painkiller with the glass of water, and we'll talk." When he cast me another defiant glare, I snorted. No way the few drops of water I'd managed to squeeze between his lips with a wet cloth were enough. Not that I'd let him in on that though.

"Don't tell me you're not thirsty. _Drink_. I'll get you that beer later."

Satisfied when he took the glass with steady enough hands and downed it in a few gulps, I nodded at the bathroom door. "There's a tap over there, if you want more."

He glanced at the door and swung his legs over the bed slowly—too slowly. I sighed and got up from my chair. I'd learned by now the little shit would never ask for my help, even if it'd cost him his life.

I grabbed the glass and went into the bathroom, running cold water from the tap. I reveled at the sight, a luxury I'd never take for granted again.

"Where are we?" Cupcake reiterated from the other room, his voice hoarse as he tried to speak up.

"Motel room," I replied, eager to spin my tale of heroic deeds. He owed me big time. Walking up to the bed, I set his glass down on the bedside table. He was regarding me with a raised eyebrow, but then his gaze dropped to my wound.

"Doesn't look good."

"_Yeah_, thanks for the diagnosis," I muttered, giving my shoulder a testing move. It hurt as hell. "Dragging your ass across a desert didn't help."

Unperturbed, he gestured at my rudimentary medical kit and patted next to him on the bed, as if he hadn't just awoken from unconsciousness.

"Pardon me if I don't trust your gentle touch," I said with a grimace, remembering the hot knife pressed into my flesh.

"That's the point. You're _too_ gentle," he said. "I can see from here you didn't get all the dirt out."

"_Not_ the way to sell your bedside manner," I replied, but with a sigh I gathered the ripped cloth, the bowl of hot water and disinfectant.

"We should take a look at that head of yours first," I suggested, sitting down next to him. If I hadn't known, I wouldn't even be able to tell the stubborn bastard was suffering from the lovely combination of a concussion and a sunstroke. "I'm not the one who fainted in the middle of nowhere."

He cast me a withering look and ground out, "It's nothing that can be helped now." He took the cloth and moved to sit behind me.

"For Hyne's sake, this time tell me when you will—" My warning was interrupted by sharp pain. Letting out a string of curses, I craned my neck to glare at the little sadist, but he was too invested in studying my wound.

"It's infecting. If it gets worse, you'll need antibiotics."

"_Right_. I'll just stop by the nearest pharmacy and whip out my imaginary credit card."

"Where did you get this then?" he asked dryly, holding up the bottle of disinfectant. "Where are we? And don't say 'motel room'."

"Not only am I handsome, I'm also resourceful," I said with a grin. "I dragged your ass all the way to a road, followed that road, and happened upon a little watering hole for weary travelers."

When he cast me a doubtful look, I leaned into his space. "You'd better be a bit more grateful I didn't leave your ass out there, Cupcake. You're heavier than you look." When he flinched back from my proximity, just as I'd planned, I smirked and moved back.

"We're still in the middle of nowhere though. It's just a stop along the road—a bar, gas station, motel and some trailers. Everyone's passing through, which means no one is paying attention to us."

The brunet's eyebrow hitched high at that statement. "You have a gunshot wound, and I was unconscious. We look like escaped prisoners."

"Like I said, I'm resourceful," I said smugly. "You were out cold, so I had to leave you behind for a bit while I sorted things out."

"You _what_?"

"Don't worry," I said with a wave of my hand. "Your mutt stood guard over you."

"_Griever_," he corrected sourly. "Where is he?"

I rolled my eyes. "He's being a good boy, staying out of sight like I told him to. Now do you want to hear this or not?" I said calmly, suppressing a smirk. I knew he was _dying_ to hear what had happened.

"Whatever," he muttered, the cloth of pain promptly pressed back into my wound.

"Fucking Hyne!" I cursed, turning around and grabbing his torture tool from him. "I'll brave the infection, _thank you_."

He just sat back and had the audacity to look at me impatiently.

"It's just _so_ wonderful to have your sunny self back," I sneered, gingerly dabbing a wetted cloth against my abused flesh, but my need for credit quickly won out.

"Obviously I couldn't walk into any of these establishments half-naked," I said nonchalantly, stretching my muscles in case the brunet needed a reminder. It was a crime the brunet hadn't chanced a look at all while I was only clad in my underwear.

"I nabbed a shirt from one of the clotheslines by the trailers. Enough to hide the shoulder." Leaning back further, making myself comfortable, I enjoyed his rapt attention, even if it was accompanied by a skeptical frown. "I lifted a drunk's wallet when he was stumbling out of the bar—"

"So you _do_ have money for antibiotics," the brunet pointed out.

"I barely got enough to cover the room for the night, Cupcake," I said with a shrug. "Drunkards never leave a bar rich."

Cupcake sighed, his gaze dropping back to my shoulder. "Pickpocket someone else. You need treatment."

"And we need a ride, food, shelter, a _plan_," I said mockingly. "Tell me something I don't know, Cupcake. I'll take what we need, when we need it."

He nodded as he drank some more water, his expression thoughtful. "So, you got a shirt and some money," he reminded me, sounding unimpressed.

"_And_ a great cover story," I added, smiling. "In case you haven't noticed yet, you _reek_. I advise a shower after this."

Frowning, he pulled at his overall and sniffed, immediately grimacing. "_Beer_?"

"Sure is," I replied happily. "That strategic spill of alcohol saved your ass. You see, we're road workers—hence the overalls—but our truck broke down in no man's land after we fixed some damage to the road. We walked all the way here, thirsty as hell, so first thing we did when arriving was hit the bar. You, unfortunately, misjudged your limits and got shitfaced. I kindly carried your unconscious ass to the motel and asked the good innkeeper for a room."

Cupcake did not look pleased with that story. I grinned broadly. "A thank you would be in order."

"We do _not_ look like road workers," he said, frowning. "There's blood on our overalls."

"Nothing a bit of flirtation couldn't distract from," I replied with a wink. "And that leather jacket covered up your little... killing spree well enough," I added, nodding at the black biker vest hanging by the door. "I shouldn't have bothered though. The innkeeper lost her interest in you the moment she smelled you—" I smirked lopsidedly "—and the moment she saw _me_, of course."

Not bothering with a reply, the brunet frowned at the sight of the studded, leather monstrosity that was far too large for him, a tacky phoenix embossed on its back. I barked out a laugh. "You should see the checkered shirt _I_ wore," I said, nodding at the white and red shirt hanging off the back of a chair. "The people passing through aren't exactly classy. My options were limited."

The brunet's lips quirked almost imperceptibly. "So we're road workers who dress like bikers and truck drivers."

"And you, Cupcake, don't have a head for beer," I added with a grin.

He huffed, finishing his second glass of water. "Now what?"

That show of confidence, the implication I had figured out the rest as well, stroked my ego far more than the innkeeper's appreciative gaze had. "Now you take a shower, while I call the innkeeper for the breakfast she promised to make us."

Cupcake raised his eyebrow at that. "I thought you only had enough money for the room."

"I did," I said, wagging my eyebrows as I walked to the phone. "Never underestimate the power of a few well chosen compliments."

Enjoying the brunet's incredulous stare, I dialed the number of the motel's reception. From the corner of my eye, I could see Cupcake standing up gingerly.

"Good morning, Mrs Novak," I said, laying on the charm when the call connected.

"Oh, good morning!" a female voice replied, clearly happy to hear me. "I hope you're friend has recovered from his... mishap?"

"Oh yes, he's feeling much better," I said. "Thank you for lending me that first-aid kit. He made quite the tumble last night."

I smirked when Cupcake stopped his unsteady trek to the bathroom and gave me his nastiest glare yet.

"That's a relief to hear. He's very lucky to have such a good friend."

"He would've been a lot less lucky if you weren't so kind to take pity on us," I replied smoothly. "Spending our last money on drinks the way he did, we owe you, Mrs Novak."

"Oh, shush," the innkeeper replied. "I cook breakfast for my husband every morning. It's hardly any trouble to make a bit more. I'll bring it up in a few minutes."

"I'm _ravenous_," I said throatily, the woman's flustered giggle before she hung up telling me I was pushing exactly the right buttons.

Hearing the bathroom door slam closed, I barked out a laugh. "Don't worry, Cupcake!" I yelled. "You're the only one for me!" Flirting with the prickly brunet was a lot more fun in any case.

Grin still in place, I plucked the ugly shirt from the chair and shrugged it on. It wouldn't do for the kind innkeeper to see the gunshot wound, but I let the shirt hang open. Better give her some eye candy in return for her services—just enough to distract her from just how dodgy her latest customers really were.

When we'd been out in the rock desert, I might've been bluffing about my assumed good looks, but now I knew it to be fact. It had been strange and disconcerting to see my own face for the first time—a stranger's face— but once I'd washed away all the dirt and had gotten in a shave, I could only thank Hyne at the sight that greeted me in the bathroom mirror.

Cupcake would never be able to resist me.

I chuckled as I started clearing away the bloodied rags. Cupcake, on the other hand, was in for a shock. No matter his damned fine genes, he looked like hell once the sun had done its number on him.

I turned my attention to the bathroom door, but I could only hear the sound of water running.

"Don't forget to wash your overall! That thing is _ripe_," I shouted, this time rewarded with a faint "_fuck off_."

Hopeful the brunet would fall for my ploy and would reappear in nothing but a towel, I stretched languidly after I'd put everything back into the first-aid kit—minus a few things I'd need for the shoulder.

We'd be all right, I reassured myself. I'd pickpocket a few more suckers, as per Cupcake's suggestion, and if I could figure out _how_, we could even steal one of the bikes or cars parked outside, and hightail it out of this backwater dump. Grand theft auto would probably be more suited to Cupcake's set of skills, and although a car would be trickier than a bike and definitely more noticeable, it would conceal us better from anyone who might still be looking for us. Cupcake was in no shape to ride on the back of a bike for long distances.

Distracted, I startled when the innkeeper knocked on the door.

"Coming," I said, summoning a charming smile. I opened the door and leaned against the door frame, pretending I didn't notice the blush rising to the innkeeper's cheeks.

"Looks delicious," I said, eyeing the tray of food she'd carried up.

"It's just some eggs, sausage, toast and coffee," she said belatedly, snapping from her stare and sending me a smile. "Not the same fare you get in hotels, but I used my best coffee blend."

"You're an angel," I said with a wink, taking the tray from her hands and setting it aside. "Here's the first-aid kit I borrowed."

She chanced a peek inside, probably in search of Cupcake. "I hope it had everything you needed."

"Absolutely," I lied, feeling the throb of infection in my shoulder. "You're a lifesaver." I glanced down at the food appreciatively, growing hungrier at the mere sight.

"Oh, shush!" she said, giggling once more. "It's the least I could do. Young men like yourself can't go around skipping breakfast! Just return the tray when you come down to check out."

"Will do," I said, waving her out as she walked back down the stairs. Glancing down at the parking lot, I made a quick study of the cars available. They were all as rundown as the next, apart from the white van with blinded windows. That one might do.

Moving back inside with the tray, I closed the door. I could no longer hear the shower running.

"Cupcake! I just earned us breakfast, and it smells fucking great!" I bent over the plates stacked with food and breathed in deeply—our first proper meal in a long time. My stomach growled in anticipation.

Setting out the food on the small table, I sighed when Cupcake didn't join me for our feast right away .

"The man-eater is gone!" I teased. "You can come out now."

Finally the door opened and Cupcake stepped into the room, clad only in a towel as I'd hoped. I started to grin, but I quickly forgot the lewd remark ready on my lips.

"_What the fuck_... Where the hell are your wounds? Your skin—"

Before going into the bathroom, he'd been a bright lobster red with flaky skin, bruises and cuts mottling his flesh. The bloody gash along his temple had topped things off, but now... Now he looked good as new, better even than when they'd thrown his sorry ass in the cell next to me. Even the dark circles under his eyes were gone.

I narrowed my eyes. The asshole was looking at me far too casually, when usually he would've glared by now for my lingering gaze.

"What the fuck did you do?"

He didn't answer right away, and almost looked apologetic. _Oh hell no_.

"I was looking at my wounds in the mirror, and I...healed them."

I clenched my fists, forcing to stay calm. "You're telling me you can _heal_," I deadpanned. "_How_?"

He shrugged. "How do you make fire appear?" he explained. "I thought of it, and it happened."

The nonchalance of his reply brought me to a boiling point. "You _fucking_ bastard!" I hissed, turning my back to him lest I felt tempted to punch him. "Let's cauterize that wound! Let's pour alcohol all over it! Oh, it seems to be infecting too!"

I swirled back around, jabbing a finger in his face. "I carried your ass for _miles_ with this bum shoulder, and you're telling me you could've healed it all along?!"

Cupcake frowned, his back straightening as he faced me head-on. "I would have, if I'd known. You weren't the only one injured."

"Oh, I remember. I'm the one who got your sorry ass out of that desert." I stepped into his private space, nearly bumping noses as I loomed over the little shit. "Heal me. _Now_."

The brunet bristled visibly, and I didn't miss the way his hand clenched near his right hip.

"Miss your toothpick?" I mocked. "It's over there, on the table. Feel free to take your chances."

The man heaved a suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not going to fight you, Seifer."

A thrill ran through me at the name. "What did just you call me?"

Cupcake's eyes widened as he met my gaze. "...I don't know why I said that."

"Yes, you do," I said, breaking into an unrestrained smile as I grabbed him by the shoulders. "My name. You remembered my name!" I knew it was true. It felt _right_ to hear him call me that.

"...Seifer," he repeated, as if to test the theory.

It was _perfect_—those lips, that voice, _my name_. I squeezed his arms, unable to contain myself. "I _knew_ it," I said, broad grin still in place. "You and I know each other. Long enough for my name to have become muscle memory," I added smugly.

Apparently my enthusiasm was too much for the stubborn brunet to handle, and he pulled away from my hold. "Muscle memory doesn't work like that."

"Muscle memory, dumb luck—I don't care, Cupcake. You _remember _me." There was no way he could bring me down from my high. "We're partners, we _have_ to be."

"All this means is that you've annoyed me often enough to condition the response," Cupcake replied dryly, but there was no sincerity to his statement.

"Say what you like." I smiled as I stepped close. "Now heal me up, partner."

A thrill of anticipation ran through me when the smaller man didn't step away, his eyes turning a liquid silver. A small frown of concentration appeared on his brow as he dropped his gaze to study my shoulder.

Without warning, a bright burst of glowing green enveloped me completely, tingling against my skin before sinking bone-deep. I drew in a sharp gasp at the sensation, having expected only my shoulder to be targeted. There was no pain; only a roiling heat that surged through me.

I let out a sigh of relief when the glow faded and shrugged my shirt off my shoulder. The raw wound was replaced with a pale pink scar, as if weeks had passed.

"Color me impressed, Cupcake," I said, watching as the brunet's eyes turned their usual gray-blue again. "Explains the lack of bedside manners too," I teased. "You don't _need_ them."

He just rolled his eyes. "For all we know you can do it too."

"I'm more the blowing-stuff-up type, I think," I said with a cocky smirk. "Who knows, maybe I'm the main man, and you're the support in this partnership."

Brow twitching, Cupcake stared me down. "I'm not your _sidekick_."

"I wouldn't bet on that," I said with a smirk, the man's near-naked state suddenly very hard to ignore now that he was no longer lobster red and bruised. "Or do you think you could come out on top?"

"Like I said, I'm not fighting you," he deadpanned, ignoring me in favor of breakfast. I shook my head as I watched that towel clad ass walk away from me towards the table. Either the man truly was as icy as he seemed, or he was utterly clueless.

Keeping in place, I didn't bother hiding my appreciative gaze as I studied him. Cupcake sure had been hiding quite the body underneath those overalls. Instead of the teenaged figure I'd expected, he was all toned curves and muscles. Pale scars crisscrossed along his skin, attesting to a tough life.

Perhaps sensing my gaze, he turned around, giving me a good eyeful of his six-pack. "_What_?"

"You really have to ask?" I leered.

He narrowed his gaze, finally uncomfortable. Perhaps he wasn't that clueless after all.

"I was just wondering what you're hiding underneath that towel," I said lowly, dropping my gaze.

Cupcake just rolled his eyes, seeming unimpressed. If he thought I was joking, he was _very_ mistaken. Moving from my passive stance to stalk up to him, I enjoyed the way his lean body tensed in response, the way his eyes widened.

"_Stop it_," he bit out, backing into the table.

I leaned in close, the lack of a knee planted in my groin all the encouragement I needed. Hell, I wouldn't mind a little tussle with the firecracker.

"There's _no way_ we didn't act on this," I whispered hotly, placing my hands on the table at his sides. "I doubt I've ever been very good at going against my urges."

When Cupcake just looked up at me as if I'd lost my mind, I moved as close as I could without touching him.

"Don't deny it, Cupcake. You feel it too."

Snapping from his daze, Cupcake glared at me. "We're close to strangers. I don't know anything about you."

"That wasn't a _no_," I said with a lopsided smirk, close enough now to feel his quickening breath against my skin. "And strangers don't go out of their way to save each other's asses. I owe you just as much as you owe me, Cupcake."

"I don't owe you anything," he hissed.

"Keep telling yourself that," I replied throatily. "You and me—I felt it the moment you gave me that nasty glare of yours."

No longer pushing against me, Cupcake looked up at me with an almost pleading expression. "You could be with someone else. You could be just a friend… or an enemy. We could hate each other."

"The way I see it, we're already fucking, or we've been dying to," I said, moving to press my lips against his neck as I spoke. "I for one believe in doing ourselves a favor. _Seize the day_."

"We're—We're both men," he said breathily, a last token protest.

I hummed lowly in agreement. "The hottest bombshell could waltz her pretty ass in here right now and I'd still fuck _you_, Cupcake," I whispered into his ear, tracing my tongue along its rim. "More of a challenge."

The slight shudder that ran through him signaled the sweet surrender I'd been waiting for.

Slipping one arm around his waist, I pulled him flush against me. Only when I had my lips on his, did I realize just how much I craved this—as if every glare and snarky retort had been foreplay, leading to this exact moment.

Growing hungry fast, I guided a hand along his lithe back, down to his ass and over the towel that was still slightly wet from his shower. He smelt fresh, his cool skin a surprise after the feverish heat of only hours ago. I let out a groan, and nibbled and pushed at his lips, forcing him to let me in.

When Cupcake finally yielded fully, his hand came to rest at my upper arm, squeezing tightly. The way his tongue darted out to curl daringly around mine had me forcing the man's legs apart and bucking him up onto the table. Cutlery and dishes clattered, our breakfast nearly landing on the floor, but I couldn't care less.

He kissed passionately, which was an unexpected thrill. His arms were around me now, his body arching into mine. Growing rock hard, I let my tongue dive deeper and my hand trace the rim of his towel. He broke away from my kiss with a moan, hanging his head against my shoulder. Small droplets of water rolled from his dark hair onto my neck.

My blood was pumping faster than it had during battle. _This_ was the addicting stuff—the slow slide of my hand underneath his towel, up his muscled thigh, as I sucked at that pale neck until it bruised. His towel slowly slipped loose. His breath was hot and heavy, his skin moist and smooth.

It was all I could take. Letting out a growl, I roughly grasped his naked ass with one hand, and forcefully tilted his chin back to me with the other. Crushing our lips together, I ground into him with an unrestrained moan, letting him _feel_ just how badly I needed things to move along.

"Slow down," he gasped, breaking away.

"Not a chance in hell, Cupcake," I said hotly, nipping at his retreating lips while I let my hand knead that sinfully firm ass.

For a few seconds I managed to pull him back into the kiss, but then his hands were at my chest, pushing away.

"_Slow. Down_."

I looked down at him, incredulous. He was out of breath, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen, yet he glared at me as if he wasn't just as fucking hard as I was.

"Don't play coy, Cupcake," I said lowly. "It doesn't suit you."

He hardened his gaze. "We can't do this." He twisted out of my grasp, away from the table. He quickly restored his modesty with the towel, but the fabric did nothing to hide his arousal.

Reeling at the sudden mood change, I stalked after him. "What happened to seizing the fucking day?" I snapped, pulling him back at the shoulder.

"Let me go."

"Getting cold feet, Cupcake?" I leered, leaning in close as I brought down a hand to cup his groin. "I promise I'll fuck you gently...at first."

His eyes flashed silver and some deeply ingrained reflex had me jumping back. The crackle of energy brought static electricity to the hairs on my arms, my breath frosting in the suddenly cold air. The little shit was _literally_ trying to blueball me.

"Do that again and you'll lose the hand," he hissed.

I narrowed my eyes as the frigid bastard walked away. "What the _fuck_ changed?" I snapped as he disappeared into the bathroom. "Nothing wrong with a good fuck between consenting adults." There was no reply, only the rustle of fabric. Whatever change of heart had led to this, he wasn't going to share it with me.

Emerging in his still dirty overall, Cupcake yanked the sleeves on as he made for the exit door. His expression was completely blank when he grabbed the biker's vest.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

"_Out_."

I cursed inwardly as I watched him throw the door open and stalk outside. My groin still throbbed tightly with need, the scent and feel of him still fresh. _Fucking cock-tease._

I waited purposefully before walking up to the door he'd left open. As long as he'd still be in sight, I wouldn't be able to keep my calm. I'd pursue him, and less kindly this time. With a groan, I leaned against the door frame, knocking my head back against the wood a few times. Breathing slowly through my nose, I waited for my arousal to dwindle.

At the sound of a car door slamming closed, I opened my eyes, alarmed that Cupcake might actually steal a car and leave without me.

I snorted at myself when I saw it was only some people stepping out of the white van I'd spotted earlier. I didn't doubt the bastard had it in him, but even Cupcake wasn't as stupid as to screw me over when I was looking right at him.

Shaking my head, I was about to go back inside when I noticed the two men who'd gotten out of the van had their gaze on me. I frowned when they made for the stairs leading to the upper walkway of the motel.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ The white van had been parked there for at least an hour, yet only now did the men come out. Perhaps they thought we were more easy to take down when separated.

There were no weapons for me inside the motel room, apart from Cupcake's toothpick. Judging from the large bulge beneath the taller man's coat however, at least one of them was packing heat.

"Hey!" the smaller one shouted when I ducked back inside. I could hear their feet pounding up the stairs as I made for the small knife and called upon Ifrit. Power surged through me, my muscles tensing with unnatural strength.

I had just enough time to whirl back around and face the door when the two men came bounding through it. The tall one immediately pointed a sawed-off shotgun at me.

"Overkill much?" I mocked, flipping the small knife around and swapping it deftly from hand to hand.

The smaller one instantly got agitated, flaring his nostrils and raising his fists. "This fair enough for you?"

The taller man rolled his eyes. "Don't let him goad you." Then he fixed his gaze on me. "Drop the knife and unjunction, Seifer. We don't have time for your games."

My name… These men knew me.

Well,_ know your enemy, _I supposed. I hid my disquiet and flashed a dangerous grin. "Now why would I do that? You're the one with the gun in my face." All the while, my mind was racing. The small window in the bathroom was too tiny to fit through—no escape there. The only way out was past them, and I wouldn't be able to outrun these men. They were young, and obviously trained.

"Drop the knife, and I'll drop the gun," the man said charmingly, nodding at Cupcake's toothpick. "Let's play nice."

The small, blond one was starting to frown now, looking at me oddly. He had dropped his fists. _Go ahead, underestimate me_, I thought.

I let my eyes travel between them, feigning internal deliberation. "...Nice it is," I yielded, flipping the handle about and extending the knife towards the small blond.

The little shit approached me cautiously, firmly grabbing the knife. "Now unjunction, assho—" I planted my fist into his ridiculously inked cheek and manipulated him in front of me as a shield. Cupcake's toothpick clattered to the floor.

The small bastard cursed and suddenly I found myself in an armlock and fighting for supremacy. Stronger than he looked then. I twisted out of his hold and managed to land a hit into the man's stomach, before he danced out of my reach with deft footwork. The gunslinger was shouting in the background, but I paid him no heed. The man couldn't shoot me without endangering his partner as well.

My ego was taking a bruising at the level of force needed to counter the smaller man—even the edge Ifrit gave me was barely enough. He was fast and his eyes flashed with a personal vendetta. He was _enjoying_ this.

"Not so much fight without the gunblade, huh?" he taunted, and I just about managed to dodge the fast snap of his fist. Echoing the enraged snarl Ifrit let loose in my mind, I feigned a move to the left, but instead swiped out my leg and landed the little shit's ass on the floor.

My blood surged hotly as I pounced and swung down a fist enveloped in flame down towards the bastard's head.

"No one fucks with me!" I growled.

But my blow never landed. For a moment I wondered whether the gunslinger had shot me after all. I'd forgotten about him in my rage. Groaning, I straightened my back from whatever had hit me and shook my head. Everything was hazy, but there was no pain. No blood. I tried to reach Ifrit but his presence was faint, his powers failing to manifest.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" I demanded.

The smaller man scrambled up from the floor with a stricken look and quickly took refuge behind the shotgun that was pointed at me once more. His partner looked at me cautiously now. Finally they were taking me seriously.

"Nothing that will harm you permanently," the gunslinger said slowly.

"What's wrong with him?" the smaller man asked.

I snorted. Good pair these two made, if one had to ask the other what they had done to incapacitate the enemy.

"What's so funny?!" the little shit fired up again.

I raised my hands in mock defeat. "A cowboy and a cowering chicken, that's who they sent to capture us," I drawled in imitation of the gunslinger's accent.

"Say that again?!"

I rolled my eyes at how quickly this asshole popped a fuse—Cupcake's thinly veiled impatience and low burning glare were a lot more fun. "Come from behind that gun and I might take you seriously," I said with a grin.

"Stop it. The both of you," the gunslinger sighed, and that's when I spotted him—a glimpse of Cupcake in the window. Not betraying there was help on the way, I kept playing along.

"Now..." the cowboy drawled, casually stepping aside to clear a path to the door. "Step outside, _slowly_, arms raised."

"I don't think so," I said equally casually. "If you had orders to kill me, you would've sniped me from the parking lot. You need me alive."

"_Sniped you from the_—" the small boxer muttered with a shake of the head, but the gunslinger interrupted him.

"Alive perhaps, but not with all your limbs," he said, pointedly aiming his gun at my legs, but I could tell it was a bluff. _Hopefully_. Where the hell was Cupcake? He should have stormed in by now, snapping the small chicken's neck.

"I'll take my chances," I said, trying to stall. Without Ifrit's powers or any weapons to speak of, I stood little chance of defeating them.

"Just Stop his ass, freeze him," the blond one piped up. "He'll ride us around forever if we let him."

I didn't like the tone of his voice, as if they'd been screwing around until now and could do something far more debilitating to me than take my powers. I needed Cupcake to level out the playing field _quickly_.

The gunslinger sighed. "He's heavy. I'd rather have him walk out of here than carry him down."

"Fat chance," the boxer said.

Insulted, I realized they were ignoring me now. The gunslinger's eyes were starting to glow a bright purple.

"Fail to kill me and you won't live long enough to regret the choice," I threatened lowly. Even if they did manage to restrain me with their powers, I would recover and I would come after them. Men like me shouldn't be kept alive by their enemies.

The gunslinger's eyes tightened. "You've said that once before, a long time ago." His purple gaze bore into me. "As you said, I'll take my chances."

I sneered and firmed my stance. Like hell I was going down without a fight.

"Look, we've already got Squall, so would you just _please _stop this?" the blond chicken asked impatiently, as if that name was supposed to mean something to me. "You didn't really think it's just the two of us, did you?"

"Well, I _was _starting to feel a little insulted."

The boxer rolled his eyes. "Just come with us, and you'll see—"

Before he could finish his appeal, a crackling snap sounded, followed by the loud clang of the cowboy's gun to the floor. Ice flakes floated in the air, the room suddenly cold, and the cowboy stood frozen with wide, unmoving eyes.

Cupcake shot out from behind him, his eyes glowing a fierce silver. Seeing him punch the stupid surprise off of the boxer's face was a beautiful sight. The small blond stumbled back into me and I happily knocked him out.

Relishing the drop of his limp body to the floor, I faced Cupcake with a beaming smile. "Should we finish them off?" I asked, but he was already out the door.

Cursing, I followed him outside and immediately spotted the reason for his earlier delay. The white van's engine was running, doors open and ready for our escape.

"There are two armed women at the south side, covering the back-road," he said as he jogged towards the waiting car. "We need to go before they notice us."

"Armed with what?"

"Melee weapons. Maybe more," Cupcake said, quickly slipping into the driver's seat and waiting for me to get in as well. I hadn't even closed the door when he revved the engine and tore out of the parking lot with a sharp u-turn.

I cursed when the sudden speed slammed me back in my seat and I quickly shut the car door.

"Not exactly a bright idea to steal their car, Cupcake," I said, looking into the rearview mirror. As expected, two women had run into the street, one of them flailing their arms wildly. "They'll track us."

He shrugged. "They left the doors open. It was the fastest option. We'll switch cars when we can." He glanced at the console then. "Take the wheel," he said without warning, before bending over and pulling off the plastic casing.

I cursed and reached over him to grab the wheel. The bastard hadn't taken his foot off the gas pedal. "What the fuck are you doing!?"

"GPS or trackers," he said curtly, tearing loose more wiring. My palms turned sweaty as I pulled at the wheel from the awkward angle, barely managing the winding road at the insane speed, but finally he emerged with a small metal device in hand. He tossed it out the open window and took the wheel again.

"Get with the fucking heads-up already, Cupcake," I complained, but I didn't truly feel annoyed. My heart was racing with the by now familiar mix of adrenaline and victory.

He ignored my suggestion, handling the dizzying speed of the car much more gracefully than I had. "They can't track us now."

"No shit," I cursed, whistling at the number he'd done on the interior of the car. I turned my gaze on him, appreciating for a moment how he loosely maneuvered the steering wheel with sharp turns, his right hand shooting out deftly to make gear adjustments as we tore down the middle of nowhere again.

"For a moment there I thought you'd bailed out on me," I joked.

I hadn't meant any blame, but he glanced at me with grave eyes. "I wouldn't," he said simply, fixing his gaze back onto the road.

That quiet affirmation affected me far more than it had any right to, but I just smirked. "Can't get enough of me, huh?"

Cupcake snorted and then his attention was lost to something in the east. The silhouette of a lion was speeding along in the distance, quickly closing in on us.

"And here I thought mutts couldn't find their way home," I complained. I doubted I'd be able to cop another feel of Cupcake's ass with the protective lion around.

The GF drew even with us and kept up with the car's speed easily. From Cupcake's lack of reply and slight frown, I knew he was talking to the mutt.

Having him to myself had been nice as long as it had lasted. Sighing, I settled back in the passenger's seat and watched the rock desert whiz by. Sure was more fun than walking across it.

"They're not pursuing," Cupcake broke the silence, most likely relaying what the GF had scouted.

"Not for long," I reminded him. "We need to reach civilization and ditch this car, _fast_. We're sitting ducks out here in the open."

Cupcake nodded his agreement. "Griever says there's a city to the north. At this speed, we'll reach it before nightfall."

"Then keep it up, Cupcake. Or should I call you _Squall_ now?" I'm sure he'd overheard that piece of the conversation before he'd stormed inside.

A small frown wrinkled Cupcake's lips.

"I know. That's not what I used to call you." I grinned when he glared at me for daring to imply I mattered in this.

"I don't care what you called me," he said evenly.

I hummed loudly in thought, ignoring his displeasure. "Maybe they took you for the wrong person. Or maybe I've always called you Cupcake." I shook my head then, starting to get genuinely bothered by not remembering. "No... That's not right. Some other nickname... Surname?"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted.

"It _does_," I countered, "but for now you'll have to settle for 'Cupcake', I'm afraid."

Angling my seat back, I propped my feet up on the dashboard. The light sound that followed had been too brief and too quiet for me to catch completely, but still I turned to look at the brunet incredulously.

"Did you just laugh at me?"

Cupcake was doing his best to battle a smile, but I hadn't imagined that breathy laugh. I tried to look offended, but I was too distracted with how significant this felt. I hadn't heard him laugh even once until now—only a slight curl to his lips, a snort or a huff.

He nodded at my naked legs and feet, his smile threatening to break free again. "Not even an overall this time."

"Didn't have time to grab anything." I winked at him and settled back seductively, letting the checkered shirt pool at my sides. "Don't pretend you don't like it."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll buy you something when we arrive."

"With what money? We left everything behind, including that wallet," I said with exaggerated grief. And then I realized.

"Fuck! Our breakfast!" I shot upright, suddenly feeling my empty stomach. "I am going to kill those bastards _slowly_," I growled, turning to look at Cupcake. "Did you see those eggs? That toast? Covered with butter—and coffee! There was fucking _coffee_!"

I slumped back into the seat. "Another day without food... We need food, Cupcake."

He glanced at me once and then slipped a hand into one of his jacket's pockets. He pulled the wallet out of it, and more importantly, two energy bars.

"When the hell did you steal my wallet?" I accused, not about to show gratitude for his thievery.

"When I left. It was on the table near the door," he replied, unconcerned.

I grumbled. "I wouldn't be surprised if you're actually a thief," I said. "Locks, cars, wallets, nothing's safe from you, is it?"

"You've stolen things as well."

I huffed. "From drunkards and clotheslines." Then I grinned a broad smile."So, how is it that even when you're out of your mind pissed off at me, you still get _two_ energy bars from the vending machine?"

Cupcake stiffened, a frown instantly replacing his good humor. "Do you want one or not?" he bit out.

Satisfied, I grabbed one of the bars from his hand, pulled back the wrapper and sank my teeth into the overly sweet piece of heaven. I eyed the hickeys that were still gracing his pale neck and smirked.

"You've got it for me _bad_, Cupcake."

The man didn't reply, his downturned lips the only reaction I got. I must really have hit a nerve if he wasn't even up for a nice, old glare. Eating with gusto, I watched as he started to riffle through the glove compartment with one hand, his expression rigid.

"Check the back," he ordered evenly.

"_Ask nicely_," I said with a grin, more to rile him up than anything. It sure had worked when I'd just met the sourpuss.

His furtive glance betrayed he remembered as well.

"Check the back _please_," he deadpanned, with the exact same lackluster he'd mustered three days ago.

I laughed and swallowed down the last bit of the energy bar. "You're lucky I like you, Cupcake. Where you get off ordering me around like that..." I clambered out of my seat and cursed when I had to squeeze into the back past the front seats. "No way you never got a beating for that attitude of yours. Might do you well to remember it."

"And you're a regular saint," Cupcake said dryly, his gaze on me in the rear-view mirror.

"Never claimed I was," I replied with a wink, and smiled when those gray-blue eyes quickly darted away. He was not nearly as uninterested as he pretended to be.

"Sooo," I said, rubbing my hands together as I looked around. There were seats lined on either side of the van, facing each other, six in total. Not quite the layout one would expect from a civilian vehicle, but it was right up the ally of military transport—perfect to discuss a mission objective, or to file out of the vehicle swiftly and orderly.

I relayed as much to Cupcake, but some things didn't add up. "There are no weapons, if you don't count the emergency flares. The medical kit seems very bare bones."

"They had their weapons on them," Cupcake reminded me.

"What kind of military operatives don't have a backup stash of weapons? Who the fuck do they take us for, taking us on with so little?" I said, shaking my head. "Cowboy was the only one with a gun. Chicken didn't carry anything at all."

"...The women didn't have guns either."

"Maybe they don't need weapons. They've got GFs, right? Would explain the med-kit too. No need for first-aid when you can just heal right up—the way you did."

"The man with the gun... He did something to you."

I plopped down in one of the seats and frowned as I looked around. "He blocked Ifrit's powers. Couldn't use them."

That earned me a moment's pause.

"Still?"

"Nah. Whatever it was, it's wearing off." I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "They could've done worse, Cupcake. A lot worse. We're lucky if we stumble across the right power at the right time, but these guys know what they're doing."

"Any documents?"

"Nope. Nothing." I cursed and slammed down my fists on the armrests. "We're being fucked with, Cupcake. If they have GFs, why are we still here? We've seen what these things can do."

"They need us alive. You said as much."

"Well, I can think of worse things than dying. No way I'm going back to a cell, letting them turn me into some freak experiment."

"They surprised us. It won't happen again."

"Damn right, it won't," I muttered. Just the thought of finding myself behind bars again, trapped...

Starting to feel uneasy in the dark and closed-off back, I pushed up and moved back to the front, when I nearly tripped. I looked down at the floor and squatted to examine the slight, uneven ridge.

"What's going on?"

"There's something down here...some mechanism." I jumped up and leaned over the back of Cupcake's seat to look at the dashboard and its many buttons. "Can't open it from there," I explained when he sent me a foul glare for invading his space. Before I could try any of the buttons, he'd slapped my hand away.

"This?" he asked as he flicked a small lever.

I looked back at the small overhead lamps and snorted. "Congratulations, Cupcake. You found the light switch."

He frowned and flicked another one, the engine suddenly giving an ominous whine that pitched higher and higher. Before I could think to hold on, the van shot forward at an insane speed and I was thrown back into the van. Just as quickly, the van shuddered to an abrupt halt and I smacked into the front seats.

"Fucking Hyne, Cupcake!" I cursed, nursing my forehead where it had impacted against metal.

"Some kind of fuel injection," Cupcake said unapologetically, before turning on the engine again.

"No shitting!" I said, scrambling up just in time to see his hand go for the next button. "_Don't_—"

My objection was cut short by the muted whir of machinery behind me. I turned to watch as some kind of table or console unfolded from the centre of the floor, in optimal view of all six seats. The screen that made up most of its surface flickered to life.

"What is it?" Cupcake asked, his gaze flicking to the rear-view mirror.

Plopping back down in one of the seats, I studied the screen. There were no buttons, no keyboards. I reached out and the screen came alive under my touch. Several folders were opened at once, several maps and pictures on display.

"I don't see any mission directives," I muttered, swiping through the pictures. "There are maps of a desert… It's got to be the one we're in. _Kashkabald Desert_."

"The city to the north?"

"It's there. Alnaj City. Looks like they've got a train station...lots of train tracks." I paused as I came to a set of overhead pictures of a large sinkhole in the middle of the desert, and close-ups of several tracks that led away from it. Operatives and vehicles were deployed all over. "There are pictures of the compound after it collapsed. They've got big numbers scouring the place, Cupcake." I browsed further and frowned. "They've got pictures of us too—must've been scoping us out at the motel."

"Anything on who they work for?"

"Only this logo. It's everywhere." I peered at it, learning nothing from the blue cross with the black-and-white ornament.

"So we're up against an official, organized group of people," Cupcake theorized.

"Doesn't look too good for us, huh?" I huffed, leaning back when I failed to find anything else. "No uplink, no database, nothing." I met Cupcake's gaze in the rear-view mirror. "Guess we better haul ass to Alnaj."

"I'll make good time," Cupcake promised with a quirk to his lips.

Grinning broadly, I got up and jumped back into the front seat, buckling up. This time I whooped in exhilaration when he hit the fuel injection, launching us through the desert at dizzying speeds.

* * *

**Author's Note:** [20th of April, 2014] Sooo, I know this chapter was late as well ^^; It would seem that showing your in-laws around as a tour guide is quite time consuming... But finally that's all done with, and I pinky promise that I'll be managing a much more timely posting schedule from now on. Anyway, it's been great fun writing this story so far, so I hope you guys are having fun reading it as well. Drop a review to tell me what you think! Next chapter should come around next weekend.


	5. SeeDs and Commanders

**~ Chapter Five - SeeDs and Commanders ~  
**

* * *

"They're relentless!" the blond cursed, gesturing angrily as he spoke. "We should have killed those bastards when we had the chance. Off cowboy and chicken, and double back to get the other two."

I didn't reply, looking around us to make sure no one was following. The statement was a valid one however. Why hadn't we killed them? Why the mercy? If Seifer asked, I would tell him it was because we didn't have time, because we had to run, but that'd be a lie.

Perhaps it was because neither man had attempted to truly harm Seifer, but that didn't feel quite right either. At the underground compound I had slid throats and snapped necks when the victim hadn't even spotted me yet.

"What the fuck is with those chicks anyway? That dominatrix with the whip is fucking insane!"

"We ran them off the bridge—"

"—And I'm sure they can swim! All we did was buy us some time. We steal their van and they show up with that fucking... _aircraft_ or whatever! We crashed that, but who fucking knows! Maybe they'll show up with tanks next time! Where the fuck are they getting these resources?"

"Their boss. Their organization," I theorized, but then shook my head. There was too little we knew for sure, too many unknowns. "We need information. Guessing will get us killed."

Seifer just grumbled a complaint and pulled his hoodie farther down over his head as we moved through the milling crowds of the street. It was no use though. Even with his blond hair covered, there was no camouflaging his tall and muscular build. No one else around us came even close to his stature, and anyone looking for us would spot us instantly.

"Information is great, but I could use some sleep and food, Cupcake."

Sighing, I shrugged my shoulders forward and let my hair drop over my face when we passed yet another goon posted on a street corner. This city crawled with them—hoodlums leaning against walls or grouping together in front of some door, obviously planted there to keep an eye on things. Whoever they worked for, they didn't seem to be looking for us, but their penetrating stares grated at my nerves. That energy bar had been a day ago now, and we hadn't had a moment's rest since. We'd only barely made it to Alnaj.

"We can't stop here."

"So where the fuck do you think we'll find this _information_, huh?" the blond snarled again. Being hunted down was turning the man into a grouch.

"Let's knock on the door of every major military organization and just _pop by _to ask if we're the ones they're looking for and _why_!" He strode to a newspaper stand and shoved today's issue into my face. "Or maybe we can find a notice for the bounty on our heads in here!"

I frowned and took the paper from the blond, quickly taking out a few bills from my pocket to placate the agitated vendor. We couldn't afford to draw attention to ourselves.

"Or we can _read_ about every major military organization instead," I said dryly, waving the paper at Seifer as we quickly walked away from the stall and the people looking at us.

The summary of the front page article alone already mentioned a "Galbadian" army, several terrorist factions and a mercenary force called "SeeD."

"Ring any bells?" I asked as the idiot scanned the front page.

"So they exist," Seifer muttered. "SeeDs," he specified, meeting my gaze. "We could be mercenaries then."

"Or we're the terrorists. Would explain why we were locked up, and why we're being chased," I pointed out. "Let's buy more newspapers," I suggested, pointing at the paper.

"Us? Terrorists?" the blond said skeptically. "I admit, I like to stir shit up, but I don't think I'd target innocents. Isn't that what terrorists do?"

"That's what governments say insurgents do. Demonize them."

Seifer barked out a laugh at that. "Sure sounds like insurgent's talk to me."

I shrugged. "Terrorists. Heroes. The world isn't that black or white. Whatever we are, we are for a reason."

"I'll drink to that," the blond sighed. "Still have to buy you that beer after all," he added with a lopsided smirk.

Rolling my eyes, I ignored his lecherous stare. No matter his foul mood, his libido didn't seem to have suffered at all. Unfortunately, neither had mine. With a sigh, I stuffed most of our remaining money into his hand.

"You get the tickets and some food. I'll try and find out more, get more papers," I ordered. I glanced at the sun's position. "Meet you at the train station at noon—south entrance."

"We're not splitting up," the blond said with narrowed eyes, crossing his arms.

I frowned at his obstinacy. "We need the first train out of this place, but we also need to know what's going on. We've already been here too long. There's too many cameras, too many people—"

"I don't fucking care, Cupcake," Seifer bit out, stepping close to me. "The moment you left that motel room, things got dicey, remember? We're stronger together."

"We can't go on like this," I argued, working up a temper. "It's been three days now, and we still don't remember a thing. There's no point in running when we don't know where to."

The blond stared me down, but we both knew I wouldn't yield.

"Fine! We'll do it your way—_again_!" he burst out, unfurling his arms wildly in capitulation. "But _I'll_ be the one scouting out intel, Cupcake. Sorry to say, but your people skills aren't worth shit. I can learn more in a bar than you could from all the newspapers in the world." He shoved the money back into my hands forcefully. "Be a good boy and don't forget to buy me that beer."

I glared at him for his stupid need for dominance. I was starting to learn that no matter how solid the plan, Seifer would never accept it without challenge if he wasn't the one to have thought it up.

"Thought you were buying," I said dryly.

Instantly that stupid smirk of his reappeared. "When we're through with this crap, Cupcake. That's a promise."

I shook my head as he flashed me a smile and gave a mock salute, and then he was gone, into the masses. The man was far too conspicuous not to get into any trouble, but he certainly would fit in better at bars than I would. I wouldn't be too surprised if he'd manage to instigate a bar brawl or two.

Folding the newspaper, I wedged it at the back of my pants to free my hands and headed in the general direction of the train station. I didn't want to spend what little money we had left on train tickets, and I'd need both hands to pickpocket the fee.

Keeping a low profile, I casually bumped and maneuvered my way through the clueless crowd in the street, quickly slipping money into my pockets and ditching the wallets in garbage cans as I went.

It was disturbing how easy it was, how little these people paid notice to their surroundings. Two young women even smiled at me as I pickpocketed them. Blind fools. I realized I had little sympathy for them and wondered at my own callousness. _Whatever_. If killing came to me naturally, then this was hardly worth brooding over.

As I left the city centre the crowds thinned, but I had already lifted more than enough to pay our way until the next day. My gaze flitted from face to face, resting on the odd figure standing still among the bustle of the streets, on cars that drove by too slowly. The sustained paranoia was starting to wear me down, but it was what would keep me alive. One moment of inattention, and that would be when they'd strike.

My restlessness was affecting the GFs. Shiva never left my awareness for long, and Griever was more than unhappy to be stuck in my head rather than out in the open, where he could instantly rush to my defense. I kept them at my fingertips, ready to call on them at a moment's notice.

Feeling eyes on my back, I kept a steady pace and ducked into a small convenience store. When I glanced into the street, I spotted nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hi," a female voice spoke behind me, and I nearly jumped. "Can I help you?"

Scowling at the sale's clerk, I quickly made my way through the shop and scavenged a few items to appease the hungry blond later on. No beer, though. No way I'd put any ideas in the bastard's head after that energy bar.

Even after I'd put the money on the counter and was on my way out, I could feel the clerk's eyes on me, her whispered comment to a colleague out of my earshot.

I frowned, but kept from looking behind me and started onto a direct route to the train station. Every time someone's gaze flitted over me, I ducked my gaze and struggled not to break into a run. Our pursuers didn't need weapons, they didn't even need to _look_ like soldiers. All I had to go on was their eyes—an unusual hue, a too bright glint.

Seifer had better be at the station on time. I didn't want to linger in this place a second longer than we needed to. Glancing at the sun's position, I sighed at the time I had left to kill. My inner clock, yet another one of my peculiar skills, told me I'd be out here on my own for at least another half hour. Digging my hands into my pockets, I continued down the meandering streets without much success at feigning a casual air. I was wound too tight, and tired.

The city didn't add much to my comfort either. The buildings were rundown, garbage littering the gutters and potholes adorning the streets. Whoever didn't look shady probably didn't have enough money to relocate to someplace better. The city of Alnaj was just as unsavory as the roadside motel we'd left behind in the desert.

I didn't expect to come across anything even remotely interesting, when my gaze was arrested by a non-descript looking shop and its dimly lit window display. The two nearby pedestrians weren't paying attention to me: a lackluster mother occupying herself with a stroller and a teenage boy too busy attempting tricks with a skateboard.

I halted and let the teenager pass. No one had stopped, no one tailing me as far as I could tell. Crossing the street, I walked up to the window of the shop and read the sign above the entry door—"_Abadon Weapons_."

Relaxing when I spotted no customers inside, the shopkeeper rummaging in the back, I let my gaze return to the weapon that had caught my attention. It was a sleek sword, large with a hilt fashioned after a gun. I placed my fingertips against the glass, tracing the shape of the trigger and the hilt, my index finger twitching reflexively in a motion that came naturally. My excitement quickly died at the price tag that was displayed just beneath the sword.

"_Gunblade / Adamantine-enforced steel / Smith: Balios / 3500 G_"

I'd need several more days of very lucrative pickpocketing to afford the weapon. Startling when I noticed the shopkeeper's curious look fixed on me, I dismissed the plan of theft that had started to form in my mind. I had no way of concealing the large weapon and right now anonymity was more important than a weapon. The shopkeeper knew my face, his back no longer turned—my window of opportunity had passed.

Repeating these facts to myself, I quickly turned away from the dirty window display and the shopkeeper's far too intent gaze. Perhaps the man had been able to guess at my thoughts. Shaking my head, I snorted at my paranoia and the pang of regret at the missed opportunity. I'd just have to make do with my knife a bit longer; it had served me well enough.

Mood soured, I quickened my pace until I spotted the train station plaza, though it was hardly worth the name "plaza." The unadorned square was closed in from all sides with bars, shops and old apartment buildings—the bustling center of shady city life. There were several vendors peddling their wares on blankets beside the curb, mostly ignored by the rush of travelers. A loud drunk was making a scene outside the poorest looking bar, a bouncer advancing on him.

Ducking my head low, I headed into the station and studied the timetables and destinations. Timber seemed like our best bet. It was the earliest train out, and although it was small, Timber seemed to be a transport hub connected to all the continents. Once we'd catch a connection out of there, our pursuers would be hard-pressed to trace us.

I felt some tension leave me as the attendant at the sale's window handed me two tickets—no ID required, only money. In spite of several curious glances, my presence at the station didn't seem to trigger any alarms, nobody came rushing my way.

Stalking to the south entrance, I leaned back against the wall in wait. Letting my bangs obscure my face, I took out the newspaper and started to skim through it.

There was little of use. Whatever had happened in the desert clearly hadn't been disclosed to the public. Most of the newspaper contained mindless entertainment sections, any informative articles far and few in between. Losing interest, I stashed the paper away and tried to appear casual in my study of the streets.

Again, people seemed to return my gaze and started to whisper, but nobody approached me. Chalking it up to my imagination, I glanced at the large clock that was mounted above the entrance of the station. _11:46 AM_. Still 14 minutes before the blond would be late.

I looked at the two tickets in hand and mused at how it hadn't even entered my head to board without the blond bastard. Here I was standing in wait for the man, not even doubting he would come back. Three days didn't seem enough time to justify such trust, yet that's what it was.

Sighing, I looked skywards at the dark clouds that were rolling in. Perhaps it was because deep down I was weaker than I'd like to admit, needing someone beside me to get through this. The blond certainly was strong and cocky enough for the both of us, always keeping me on my toes.

Feeling an annoying flutter return to my stomach at the thought of the bastard, I scowled. I might be able to trust the guy to have my back in a fight, but anything more was dangerous. The acute apprehension that had finally pushed me to refuse the man back at the motel room was still clear in my memory—a warning buried deep in my subconsciousness.

And yet every moment the infuriating bastard walked beside me, brushing against me deliberately, teasing me with his lewd remarks, I felt that damned rush of anticipation and wondered what it would've been like to give the blond what he wanted—what _I _wanted.

_Maybe after all this is over_.

It was a dangerous thought, but a tempting one. When we were safe, when we remembered who we were... If we still wanted it, maybe then. I watched with quirked lips as the dark clouds gave an ominous roil of thunder, and rain started to pelt the streets. I would let him buy me that drink, I decided.

Soon the streets cleared as everyone fled the downpour and disappeared inside, leaving me slightly more relaxed. Anyone following me now would be much more obvious. I kept huddled close to the wall, just out of reach of the rain. It wasn't cold, the hot desert air tempering the ocean's humidity. After that day under the excruciating dry sun, this was downright comfortable.

I noticed him instantly when he appeared from one of the alleys. Looking around him, he spotted me and broke into a jog.

"Fucking hell, seems like the gods can't decide whether they want to fry us, or drown us!" he cursed when he took shelter beside me. Shaking himself like a dog, he showered me with water. "I'm wet to my fucking underwear!"

"You wanted to be out there instead of buying tickets," I pointed out dryly, trying not to laugh at his miserable, waterlogged appearance. His clothes and hair were sopping wet, his shoes squelching loudly with every step he took.

"You think this is funny, huh, Cupcake?" he said mischievously, before slinging his soaked arm over my shoulder and pressing me close. "How do you like it now?"

Grimacing at his wet touch, I gave him a halfhearted glare. "Found anything?"

"Oh, this and that," he said with a smile, dragging me into the station and further succeeding in dampening my clothes.

"Got the tickets?"

"To Timber. From there, we can go anywhere we want," I answered, attempting to dislodge myself from his hold. "Here's yours. We leave in half an hour."

Pocketing the ticket, he looked over my shoulder into the plastic bag in my hand. "That better be food. I'm fucking _starving_." Taking advantage of the situation to wrap his arm around my waist and grab the bag, he reached into it with his other hand, effectively trapping me.

"Sandwiches! Sure beats energy bars," he said with a happy sigh. "You _do_ love me, Cupcake."

Elbowing him, I finally freed myself, but from his stupid grin I knew he hadn't missed just how indulgent I'd become of him. Making our way to the third train platform, we sat down out of sight of most people. "So?" I asked.

He chewed down a greedy bite of his sandwich before replying. "It was a matter of finding the right drunkard in the right mood. Politics rile most of them up. That, or ex-wives," he said with a wink. Swallowing down another mouthful, he leaned back in the uncomfortable seat. "A lot of shit is going down. One guy mentioned an explosion in the desert. His friend called it in, but the police here seems like an incompetent bunch. Nothing about it on TV either. Guess that would be our former prison. This manhunt they declared on us isn't public knowledge."

He took another bite, continuing with his mouth full. "Galbadian government—that's the westernmost continent—is making a mess of things; they've got a military coup waiting to happen, and terrorist factions rebelling against anything and everything."

"Rebelling against what?" I asked, taking out a sandwich for myself.

"Against the Galbadian government, against other governments, against magic-using minorities, against SeeDs—you name it, there are action groups against it."

"Magic?" I repeated dumbly.

"Yup, seems like that's what they call it—what we can do, I mean. Ridiculous fucking name." He shrugged and took another healthy bite of his food. "Public opinion seems divided. The guy I was talking to sure thought it was an abomination of nature."

"How many people can use magic?"

"Hell, I don't know. My dear drinking pal thought magic-users are infecting the world, and SeeDs and sorceresses are the biggest bad among them."

"SeeDs..."

"Yup. SeeDs. Like the newspaper said, they're a mercenary organization—anyone can hire them. They train kiddies to use magic as a weapon."

"So anyone could've hired them to hunt us."

Seifer nodded, looking thoughtful as he chewed on his food. "I don't know what any of that makes us. We could be SeeDs gone rogue. We could be sorcerers or whatever—the guy couldn't really explain how those are different from other magic-users. A lot of these governments seem incompetent enough for me to want to rebel against them too."

"How widespread is SeeD?" I asked, growing concerned the more the blond said. "It sounds like they're the ones after us."

"I'd say fucking widespread," he replied with a grimace. "Their bases of operation are called _Gardens_—and might I say how fucking lame that is?"

"The leader back at the underground complex," I said slowly, remembering the name that hadn't made sense at the time. "He said he wanted to destroy _Garden_."

Seifer snorted. "Well, then he had his work cut out for him. There's a _Garden_ on the Galbadian continent, a central one in Balamb, one to the north in Trabia and one is being built in Esthar to the east. They're everywhere, Cupcake, and they've got technology _and_ magic to back them up."

I sighed and rubbed at the bridge of my nose. "What about the other governments, their militaries?"

"Like I said, the Galbadian military is looking to overthrow its own government. The Balamb and Trabian regions seem pretty stable, but Esthar hasn't made itself too popular. A politically isolated state, with a major superiority complex. It's where Garden is getting all its fancy gadgets."

"Garden and Esthar could be allies then. We shouldn't go there."

"Then where the fuck should we go? We're on the only continent where they don't have a base, and they _still _managed to find us. Centra is the only place in the world without a unified government; it's all wasteland, desert, feral beasts and a few autonomous cities along the coastline." He gestured around him widely with his sandwich. "This fucking _is_ the place outlaws run to. My drinking pal? He fled the authorities after his money laundering gig in Galbadia went south."

I sighed. "They know we're here."

"Timber it fucking is then," he muttered with a shake of the head. "Galbadia?"

I nodded.

"That lands us right in the thick of it, Cupcake. Everyone's fighting everyone over there."

"It'll be better cover than wastelands and deserts. We might find our own people over there, if we have any. If not, we'll have escape routes to anywhere in the world."

He grunted out his displeasure and swallowed the last of his sandwich. "I don't know about you Cupcake, but I'd be just fine with the two of us laying low somewhere, riding out this shitstorm. Fuck _our people_. If we ever did belong to an organization or rebel group, they sure didn't come looking for us. We fought our own way out."

"If it comes to that," I said evenly, offering him another sandwich. "But I'd like to know who I am."

"You and me both," Seifer agreed with a huff. "If it's any consolation, I think I've got a pretty good idea of who you are," he added, fixing me with those intent green eyes of his.

I looked away, self-conscious and aware of how much the idiot affected me. "Who I was before_, _Seifer."

"I already told you... I feel like I've known you all my life." At those uncharacteristically gentle words, I turned and met his gaze. He grinned then. "Don't worry about it, Cupcake. We're a kick-ass team. We stick together—that's all I need to know for now."

I sighed and nodded, unable to deny his words any longer. I _did_ feel like I knew him, more so than three days could account for.

The impossible blond smiled broadly at finally having my affirmation. It was infectious and I fought back the answering twitch of my lips.

"I know what weapon we use," I said when I had my expression back under control. "It's called a gunblade. I saw it in a shop."

Seifer looked up from his second sandwich, his eyebrows scrunched. "That name… I think the tattoo-guy mentioned it." He turned towards me. "What did it look like?"

I rolled my eyes. "As the name implies, a large blade with a gun for a handle." Seeing a frown appear on the man's face, I added, "It was too expensive, and it wasn't exactly low-profile."

The man nodded slowly. "I _knew_ it was some kind of sword." He cursed then. "I guess we'll never see ours again."

I didn't bother telling Seifer we could buy new ones in due time. I felt the loss, and knew he did as well. I couldn't remember what my gunblade had looked like, but I missed it like an extension of my own arm. Some things were irreplaceable.

He looked at me, understanding passing between us. "You think we did these ourselves?" he asked, leaning close and bringing up his hand to softly trace the scar on my forehead. I allowed the touch, trying not to lean into it, and shrugged.

"Maybe. Maybe it was done to us, to mark us as traitors."

Dropping his hand, Seifer huffed and shook his head with a wry smile. "You know, you're way too good at this moodkill thing, Cupcake. Kind of ruthless."

I raised an eyebrow. Only the blond would consider scarring each other as some kind of twisted, romantic gesture.

"You give in just enough to get a guy's hopes up," he continued, his gaze following a lewd path down my body, "and then you go cold on me." His lips curled into a lopsided smirk full of promise. "I won't be a good boy forever, Cupcake."

"Your libido is not my problem," I said flatly.

"Mhm," he hummed seductively, "but what about yours?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'll manage," I said dryly. "Thanks for the concern."

"You know what I think? I think you _like_ to be chased, you _like_ to play hard to get." At my stunned silence, he stretched back leisurely with a smile. "Hell, I think you love to fight. Hyne knows I do." He slowly ran his hand up my thigh. "These scars of ours? I'd go out on a limb and say we enjoyed every minute of it."

I slapped away his hand and glared. "You're out of your mind."

"Rub in your indifference all you want, Cupcake. We both know the truth." Getting up from the bench, he tossed the wrappers of his sandwich into the bin with perfect aim. "Our train," he said, looking back at me as if he hadn't just turned me on and pissed me off at the same time. In the distance, a train was approaching.

Getting up as well, I moved to stand by his side. "You've got it the wrong way around. Nothing's enough for you. Attraction is a game to you—a scoreboard." Looking away, I moved towards the edge of the platform as the train rolled in. "That's not me."

Ignoring Seifer's suddenly stony expression, I stepped onto the train and looked for our seats. Behind me, the blond remained silent.

Our train compartment was mostly empty. A handful of passengers were taking their seats throughout the compartment, a group of young teenage girls in gaudy clothes the most noticeable among them and also the loudest.

Relieved to find we were sitting secluded at the far end of the compartment, I took the corner seat by the window, in prime view of the other passengers. Faltering behind a few steps, Seifer sat down in front of me. He studied me with a long look, before leaning forward.

"You saying you want to make an honest man out of me, Cupcake?" he said with a leer, but there was no trace of his earlier mirth. "Want me to wine and dine you properly?"

I sighed and rubbed at the bridge of my nose. "I _want_ us to catch some sleep," I said tiredly, meeting his gaze. "It's a three hour ride."

He snorted and sagged back into his seat. "Suit yourself," he muttered, pulling his hoodie over his eyes and shutting me out.

Too tired to try and mend the tense situation, I settled in as well and rested my head against the window. The barren landscape whizzed by for a few minutes, until the train went underground and the light in the compartment was reduced to the dim overhead lamps, but still sleep didn't come. Frustratingly, my head was filled with thoughts of Seifer instead of our predicament. I didn't know what the man wanted from me apart from sex—most of the time he spoke as if that was all he cared about, but his sporadic capacity for gentleness contradicted his casually stated interest.

When a soft snore alerted me he'd truly dozed off, I felt free to study the man closely for the first time. The bastard _was_ handsome, but that wasn't why I found myself attracted to him. When I'd freed the blond from his prison, his muscled build and rugged smile hadn't sparked a shred of interest in me. I hated to admit it, but it was his antagonism, his challenging attitude that had caught my attention. I _did_ love to fight him, that much he was right about.

And if he was right about the scars as well, I thought darkly, then whatever relationship we might've had prior to our amnesia was far from domestic bliss. Sex and fights. Was that it?

Without sleep to claim me or a view to get lost in, time crawled by. Conversation had quieted down in the compartment, except for the excitable group of girls seated a few rows over. Their topics of choice revolved around boys, sneaking out, parties and more boys. They grated at my nerves, especially when an hour into the trip they spotted me in spite of my slouch. The ensuing giggles and not so secretive glances were maddening.

Other passengers were starting to take notice and when they followed the girls' line of sight, they began to stare as well. Whispers started to fill the compartment.

I grew tense, hoping beyond hope they were talking about the girls' rowdiness. When a girl from the group got up and started walking towards us, I kicked Seifer. The blond started awake with a jerk and yanked his hoodie back, instantly alert. "_What_?" he demanded, until his gaze followed mine to the approaching girl.

The short-skirted teenager looked at me shyly, her friends rooting for her loudly from the back. "Uhm, hello," she said hesitantly. "Me and my friends—we were wondering if we could maybe get your autograph?"

The blond and I shared an incredulous look. "Him?" Seifer asked with a raised eyebrow, jabbing his finger in my direction. "You talking to Ice Prince here?"

The girl rolled her eyes and scowled at him. "No, I'm asking _you_," she replied sarcastically. "Of course I'm asking him!" She then proceeded to bat her eyelashes at me again. "I would really, _really_ appreciate it."

Dumbstruck, I tried to shrink away from all the attention. Everyone in the train compartment was looking at our exchange with the girl.

"I don't see you holdin' any paper, kiddo," Seifer snapped. "Why don't you beat it and leave us the fuck alone."

The girl pouted, before smiling coyly. "I don't have paper, but I do have a pen," she said sweetly, holding up a simple ballpoint pen.

"Fuck off _right_ _now_, or I'll remove you my fucking self."

"What are you, his bodyguard?" the girl sneered, dropping all pretense of innocence. "The commander can decide for himself," she said, turning her gaze to me and extending the pen. "Can't you?"

Finding my voice, I replied evenly, "I don't do… autographs." Even if I did have one, I couldn't remember it.

"You heard the man. _Get lost_."

Finally the girl returned to her seat, her retreat accompanied with disappointed exclamations from her friends and even more whispering from the other passengers.

"_What the fuck_?" the blond hissed. "You're cute, but not _that_ cute."

I had no answers for him. My skin crawled under the scrutiny of the other passengers. Following my gaze, Seifer looked over his shoulder and cursed. He scooted to the side, blocking me from view.

"She called you _commander_, Cupcake," he whispered urgently, leaning in. "Either they're mistaking you for someone else, or you actually are a fucking commander."

"...I wasn't imagining it," I said slowly, my head reeling.

"Imagining _what_?"

"When we split ways in Alnaj... I thought I was being paranoid—too many people staring at me."

"Did anyone approach you?"

"Not until now," I said, meeting Seifer's gaze. "This changes everything."

"No fucking kidding," the blond cursed quietly, dragging his hand through his hair. "Okay, _listen_. We're not in trouble yet. These are civilians, and this is an isolated, inaccessible train. We can split the moment we arrive, we can... I dunno, _disguise_ you or something." He grinned at me. "How do you feel about going blond?"

I rolled my eyes, feeling increasingly trapped in the small compartment. "What am I supposed to be commander of?" I whispered.

"Hell if I know. National military might pump out some heroes adored by the masses, but you ain't military, Cupcake. You fight too dirty."

I frowned, unconvinced. "_Commander_ is a military title."

The blond drummed his fingers on the small table between us. "Look, I don't know, Cupcake. This shit creeps me out as well." He squared his shoulders and jerked his head at the group of girls. "Want me to go get some answers from your fangirls?"

I quickly shook my head, not trusting the blond to keep a level head. "We can't raise any suspicion. Right now no one seems to think anything is wrong. We need to keep it that way, keep them from raising alarm."

Seifer shook his head and leaned in close. "They have _cell phones_, Cupcake," he said with narrowed eyes. "I'm betting that if they're interested in your autograph, they've already taken plenty of pictures. I should go do some confiscating."

"It's too late for that. If they took pictures, they could already have sent them, uploaded them," I said, realizing just how dangerous this situation was. "Look. You said this manhunt isn't public knowledge. It's better these civilians think of me as some idol, and not a dangerous, rogue operative. We can't go attacking people."

"So we just sit this ride out?" the blond asked incredulously. "We can't exactly jump ship here, Cupcake. We're under a fucking _ocean_ if you haven't noticed!"

"Someone else is coming," I hissed, the blond instantly falling quiet as well.

Another young girl appeared next to us, a piece of paper clenched in her hands.

"He's not signing anything, so would you please _get lost_," Seifer said with mock politesse.

Taken aback, the girl blinked a few times in hesitation, but then seemed to gather her courage. "I just—I need to give you this," she said to me quickly, holding out the folded paper. Seifer yanked it from her hands instead.

"Message received. Now _beat it_."

Letting out a small cry of fear, she hastily fled from the train compartment. I glared at Seifer for the harsh treatment.

"What?" he mocked. "You actually _want_ your little fan letter? You've sunk low, Cupcake."

"We can't afford to draw any more attention to us than we already have."

Seifer snorted. "That cat is long out of the bag. By the time we arrive, our dear friends could be waiting for us because of those brats. Or worse—_paparazzi_."

I sighed and considered our limited options. Harming innocent bystanders wasn't one of them. Even if we did get off the train and into the underground tunnel, that still left us with only two exit points. If my unexpected fame tipped off our pursuers, it wouldn't matter whether we emerged from the tunnel by train or on foot.

"They'll be waiting for us, or they won't. Nothing we can do about it now."

Groaning, Seifer threw his feet up onto the seat next to me. "_Right_. So then our faith depends on a teenage girl's ability to keep from broadcasting to the world that she ran into her idol." He gave a kick to the tattered seat. "_Fucking_ modern technology."

He held up the piece of paper and glared at it. "Shall I read you your fan letter, _Commander_?" he mocked, folding it open. "Perhaps we'll learn what the big fucking deal is with you."

"Don't blame me," I said, trying to keep calm. "Whatever happens, we can always fight our way out. We have before."

Seifer didn't answer, his eyes flitting over the girl's confession in the letter. Tempted to accuse him of jealousy, I refrained when I noticed his expression darkening, his fist tightening around the piece of paper.

"_Fucking Hyne_." He slapped the note onto the table, anger clear on his face. "You need to read this shit."

Unsure, I took it in hand and read the precise, tight handwriting.

_Squall, Seifer,_

_This is the only way I can think of to resolve this situation peacefully. We've realized your misunderstanding too late, and we seem to have alarmed you into distrusting us. We were not hunting you down, we were looking for you after your sudden disappearance. We are your friends, your colleagues. You are SeeD operatives and you are needed back with us. We can remedy your amnesia._

_Please cease all hostilities and stop running. Give us a chance to explain without violent confrontation and come to the lobby of Timber's Broadcast Station before sunset. It is a secure, public location in the center of town. No harm will come to you. I will come alone. You will be able to recognize me by my SeeD uniform._

_Quistis Trepe,_

_Headmistress of Balamb Garden_

Seifer piped up before I could even finish reading. "If they fucking know we're on this train, why this bullshit truce? Why not attack us right here, right now?!"

I leaned back, lowering the note to my lap. "It's either a trap, or the truth."

"You willing to take that gamble? They brought weapons to the motel. They chased us, tried to shoot us off the road. _Misunderstanding_, my ass."

"They never tried to kill us," I countered, trying to puzzle together what we knew for certain.

Seifer snorted. "If they were so merciful to keep us alive, it's because they need something we can't give to them dead."

I hummed in thought. "Possibly. There could be a bounty on our heads, to get us alive. They could be hired to deliver us to stand trial. We could have information they need."

"Good luck to them," the blond barked out with laughter. "I don't even remember who I am."

"The message says they know how to fix the amnesia," I reminded.

"_Yeah right_, a mercenary's euphemism for torture and extraction of intel. We can't assume they can fix us."

"We can't assume they can't," I countered. "They wouldn't have alerted us to their presence if they were planning to ambush us at Timber's train station. They _will_ be at the broadcast center."

"_They_, huh? Don't trust this Trepe will keep up her end of the bargain and come alone?"

I shook my head. "All we know for sure is that she'll be there. We can't trust she will be alone, or even if she is who she says she is."

Leaning in close, Seifer looked at me with narrowed eyes. "Then why are we still talking about this, Cupcake? The way I see it, they can wait at their fucking rendezvous point. We won't be there."

"They won't stop pursuing us. We can't run from them forever."

"So what, you'll go along with this little truce and hope it's not a trap? You're not that naive."

"I want us to go in prepared, _expecting_ it's a trap." I held up the note, willing the blond to see things my way. "This might be the only opening they ever give us. If it is a trap, we need to know why they're after us. We need to know who to avoid, who to target and take out. There has to be a way out of this."

Seifer shook his head, running his hand through his hair again. "That might sound good in theory, but it's the two of us against all of them."

"We go in assuming Trepe won't be alone. One of us goes to the meeting place, one of us hides in the background as back-up."

"They'll have thought of that," the blond countered.

"Then one of us will have to take out Trepe's back-up. They need us alive. We don't necessarily need them alive."

Seifer barked out a laugh at that. "Your style is starting to grow on me, Cupcake, but I think we both know who needs to be the back-up here."

"I'll be back-up," I agreed with a nod.

He looked at me oddly. "Didn't think it'd be _that_ easy."

I rolled my eyes. "If I am a commander, I could be the main target."

"And I'm a fucking afterthought," the blond complained with a scowl.

My lips twitched into a smile at his petulance. "No. Just my sidekick."

"You tell yourself that, while you let the _real_ man do the dangerous work." He got up from his seat and plopped down next to me. "Don't worry, darling. I'll protect you," he drawled with a smirk, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer.

None too stealthily, one of the teenage girls snapped a picture of us with her phone. Pushing the blond away, I glared at him.

"Oh, come off it, Cupcake. We're here, and for all we know, the entire _world_ knows by now. No point in secrecy anymore."

"That's not why I need you to back off," I bit out evenly, but the blond only smiled.

"So, we've got at least another hour to kill in here. Should I go look for that message girl?"

Sighing, I shook my head. "I doubt she knows anything. She's a civilian; a pawn they used."

"If you say so, boss," Seifer said, before propping up his feet again and resting his head against my shoulder.

"_Seifer_," I hissed. "Get. Off."

"Don't be stingy, Cupcake. I'll need my energy if this pans out the way you planned, and you're the most comfortable thing around." When a salvo of giggling sounded from the other end of the compartment, he grinned. "Or are you afraid of what _the girls_ might think?"

I leaned back with a sigh, allowing the blond his petty victory. "If you're going to sleep, please shut up."

"Anything for the Commander," he teased, but then he pulled his hoodie over his eyes again and nestled his head a bit more closely.

I refrained from looking at the other passengers, and kept my gaze focused outside the window, on the darkness of the tunnel. Strangely enough, the close proximity of the sleeping blond calmed me and I felt more at ease than before, in spite of our considerably worse situation. We were running out of options, and my plan was a last resort at best, but Seifer seemed to trust me implicitly.

I would get us out of this mess.

The GFs picked up on my calm resolve, and Griever receded to the back of my mind for the first time since he'd rejoined me after the motel. I smiled at the imagery Shiva planted in my thoughts—our two big bad wolves dozing off. Together we kept watch over them as the train sped us towards our last stop. One way or the other, we wouldn't be fugitives anymore after Timber.

* * *

**Author's Note:** [27th of April, 2014] And we're halfway in the story! Thank you to those who took a moment in their busy day to leave me a review, and thanks to all those who have deemed my story worth of a favorite or an alert :) Sharing is half the fun of writing! Until next weekend ;) **[Update]** oops, the site seems to have mixed up my upload documents, and Chapter Two was accidentally reposted as Chapter Five... That should be fixed now! Sorry for the inconvenience!


	6. Into the Lion's Den

**~ Chapter Six - Into the Lion's Den ~**

* * *

Stepping outside of Timber's train station, I came to a halt at the top of the entrance's stairs. Only a few steps ahead of me, Seifer had stopped moving as well, his gaze glued on the town stretched out before us.

There were no high-rise buildings, no towering structures to obstruct the view as we stood still amidst the thin throng of travelers streaming down into the station's plaza. The sun had already started its descent towards early evening, casting the picturesque buildings and streets in a soft, golden glow.

"I don't like this," Seifer said quietly, turning to me. "This place is giving me the creeps, Cupcake."

I nodded slowly, unable to pinpoint the reason for my unease. Timber was smaller than Alnaj had been, and it looked far more harmless. Quaint shops and eateries lined the litter-free, cobblestone streets, and the people bore open expressions and kind smiles. At the heart of this peaceful scenery sat the largest building the town had to offer. The satellite disks and its relative size marked the building as our goal—the broadcast station.

I suppressed a shiver. The building's outdated exterior was wholly unremarkable, but I couldn't shake the sense of something...sinister.

"I think I liked Alnaj better," the blond pressed. "Fuck the plan, we need to leave."

"We can't quit now. It's our only chance," I said with a shake of the head. "Whatever's out there, we can handle it."

Seifer stepped up to me, nearly bumping noses. "You're not hearing me," he hissed, his eyes wide. "We _need_ to get the fuck out of here. Bad shit's gonna go down if we stay, I _know_ it."

I felt his quickened breath as he spat the words at me, his taut neck betraying his erratic pulse. "...No," I said with a frown. "Something bad _has_ happened here—in the past." Stepping away from his looming form, I stared at the seemingly innocuous town.

"What, like before our amnesia?" Seifer said, his hands clenching and unclenching nervously.

"Yes. I don't believe in premonitions or bad omens," I answered. "We've been here before. That station—something happened to us there. That's why things feel off."

"And how does that change _anything_ of what I said?" the blond snapped. "All it means is this place is trouble!"

I shifted uneasily as we started to draw the curious glances of other travelers. What could possibly frighten the man when demons and nameless pursuers had failed to intimidate him? "It's just a town, Seifer. A building. Circumstances have changed," I said evenly.

"For the fucking worse!" The blond turned around and started to pace, unable to hide the slight tremble to his hands. "I feel... I feel like I lost something here. Nothing I can do to stop it, _nothing_—"

I walked up to the blond and jerked him towards me by the shoulders.

"Seifer!"

The blond straightened, but his breathing was still far too accelerated. "I—I don't know what's happening."

People were stopping in their tracks to watch us now, so I quickly pulled the blond down the station's stairs and guided him into a relatively deserted street. Away from prying eyes, I turned to him and gripped him tightly by the shoulders.

"Listen to me," I said firmly. "Maybe you were injured here once, maybe something else, but whatever it was, you've already beaten it." I squeezed his arms to draw his focus to me. "Focus on the here and now."

Watching the man nod faintly, I continued. "We need to do this. We need more information so we can go after whoever's messing with us. You and me." At those last words he met my gaze, his shoulders relaxing under my grip.

"You and me," the man said with a sigh, a last shudder running through him, before he leaned close. "_Fuck_."

Not trusting he'd regained his composure yet, I allowed the closeness. I felt guilty for playing on his attraction towards me like this, but I needed him to calm down.

"You okay?"

"Yeah..." He pulled away, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Great partner I make, huh?" he scoffed, his gaze averted. "Spooked by a fucking _building_."

"The cause must be sufficient, even if we can't remember it."

"Sufficient cause?" he snarled. "That supposed to soothe my pride? There's no excuse for being this fucking _weak_." His gaze narrowed, his mouth tightening into a thin line. "Spare me the fucking platitudes."

Bristling at the sudden antagonism, I almost didn't bite back the reply on my tongue—a callous order for Seifer to man up. "Look... I can't do it alone, Seifer. Either we go in together, or we leave and fight another day. It's your call."

"We go in," he replied immediately, his expression hard. "I'm not a fucking coward."

I took a moment to assess his resolve, and steeled my own. "I know you're not," I said finally, starting in the direction of the broadcast station.

"_Fuck_." Catching up with me, Seifer sent me a sideways glance. "Look, I'll make it up to you." His lips quirked into a humorless smile. "How about Trepe's head on a platter?"

I quirked an eyebrow at him, unsure of how to deal with this volatile side to the man. "How about you try and talk to her first."

"Hmm, well," he drawled. "Guess I can hold out on the punches if she's a looker. I'm a regular old softy when a girl's my type: dark hair, pretty face, damn tight ass—"

I relished the blond's grunt of pain when I jammed my fist into his shoulder, hard enough to bruise.

"—and a killer right hook," he finished with a pained grin. "...So, how will we do this exactly?"

"We can't attract any attention. We can't let civilians recognize us or follow us before we even get there. No innocents get harmed."

"No collateral damage," Seifer agreed with a sigh. "Hyne, I'm starting to miss the ruthless killer who slit Mr. Engineer's throat."

"He was a threat."

"Whatever you say, Cupcake," the blond said blithely. "So, you find a way in round the back and I barge in through the front door, draw their attention?"

I nodded. "We'll have no way of communicating. If things go wrong and I'm not there to back you up, use any force necessary to get out. Use Ifrit."

"If shit _does_ hit the fan, where do we reconvene?" he asked. "We'll need to move fast if we want to get out of Timber under their watch."

"If we lose each other, don't try to find me. Leave as fast as you can. No public transport. We can divide their attention if we go separate ways." I held up a hand when he started protesting. "Deling City, town hall, every morning at 6 AM. Give it one week. If either of us doesn't show within that time, the other needs to move on alone."

"Fuck," the blond cursed. "...Deling then. Great pep talk, Cupcake."

"We need to be prepared."

"No amount of preparation is gonna help us if we're outmanned and outgunned," he said grimly. "I say we go all out. Ifrit can fry 'em all to hell before they even know we're there, and whoever's lucky enough to survive can tell us what we want to know."

I sighed and shook my head. "They might be telling the truth."

"Come on, you don't _really _believe that," he sneered.

"If we want information, subtlety's the better option."

"Maybe we've got the task division wrong after all," the blond complained. "You get to go all stealth on those motherfuckers' asses, while I have to play the fucking diplomat? Let's draw straws again."

I smiled at the blond's petty grumbling. "You're the one who claimed to be the people person—better at getting intel." I met his gaze. "Maybe I misremembered."

"Have it your way, Cupcake," Seifer relented, less amused than me, "but the moment I smell something fishy, anything off _at all_, and the gloves come off."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"Now let's cover _your_ part. You'll probably run into that gunslinger of theirs. He's a smooth talker. Don't let him speak, just put him down," the blond ordered, voice stern. "Preferably _before_ he notices you."

"As I did last time," I pointed out dryly.

Seifer barked out a laugh and swung an arm around my shoulder, an unfortunate habit I had failed to dissuade. "Between your ruthlessness and my charm, I think we'll be alright, Cupcake."

Looking up at the man, I hummed my agreement and didn't comment on the tension I could still feel in his tightly coiled muscles.

I wasn't proud of talking Seifer into ignoring his instincts, but this was our only option. Silently, I prayed the man would stay on top of his game until our mission was finished. And if somehow things went wrong, I would take responsibility and do whatever it took to get the blond out of there.

As the sun was starting to set, we stuck to the narrow alleyways that made up most of Timber's streets, until finally the broadcast station was right in front of us, across a small square. Hidden in the shadows, we observed our surroundings.

Apart from the cheerful and inebriated voices coming from a pub to the west, the place was completely deserted— not even a passing pedestrian.

"I thought the message said it would be _public and safe_—as in lots of people," Seifer whispered.

"Maybe they cleared the streets," I suggested, "but it's a small town. Most people are done for the day, probably home already."

The blond snorted. "How domestic." He turned to me with a grave expression. "This is it, Cupcake. I'll give you fifteen minutes to get inside and into position. Then I'm going in through the double doors."

I took a moment to study the blond. He'd calmed down considerably, but the tight set to his eyes and shoulders belied his outward poise. "You okay to do this?"

"Don't baby me, Cupcake," he replied brusquely. "I'll get the job done."

"Alright," I said with a nod. "See you inside."

We exchanged no good luck wishes, but I could feel his eyes on my back as I darted into a narrow passage that led to the west side of the broadcast station. A set of stairs, perhaps set up as an emergency exit, meandered up the side of the building, right below large screens mounted on the wall. The sight of them briefly rooted me into place, a flash of static and hissed messages snapping into my mind.

The earlier sense of wrongness returned tenfold, and it took all of my willpower not to backtrack and find Seifer. Shaking my head to rid myself of the fragmented impressions, I reminded myself of my objective and decided to bypass the too obvious entry point. If they were expecting an ambush, they would expect it from here, so I circled round the back and headed for the east side.

The sun had nearly set by now, the night encroaching on the small town. I called on Shiva and Griever, their powers immediately sharpening my senses and strength. The darkness cleared into sharp contrasts, and the evening air came alive with noises and smells.

Right before rounding a corner, I came to an abrupt halt when I heard a slight rustle, followed by the quiet crunch of boots.

"You think they're out there yet?" a gruff, male voice sounded, but I could hear no reply, no footsteps of a companion. They were using walkie-talkies then, or earpieces. That would make it harder to take them out one at a time without alerting the others.

"Well, I'm not so sure if it was smart to just invite them in like that, ya know? Doors wide open, and all? The way I know Seifer, he'll shoot first and ask questions later, ya know?"

I took my knife out and peered around the corner while the man kept chattering, broadcasting his exact location and inattention to any enemy in the vicinity. Judging from the silhouette in the darkness, the man was even larger than Seifer, all muscle and bulk. I wouldn't be able to wrestle this man into submission, but men that big were bound to be slow.

Deciding on a course of action, I firmed my grip on the knife and quickly shot up behind the man when he had his back to me. Before he could even turn around to see where the attack had come from, the sharpened edge of my knife was pressing into his throat, drawing a drop of blood. Spotting the earpiece in his left ear, I leaned in towards his right ear and whispered.

"Tell everyone you should all be quiet now—focus on your task."

I could feel sweat erupt on the man's broad neck, his pulse spiking fast.

"I—uh..." At his hesitance, I slowly inched the knife sideways, slicing shallowly into his skin. "Uhm, guys, I think maybe we should keep down the chatter for now, ya know? They'll be here any minute and, uh, don't want to warn 'em which corner we're waiting behind, ya know?"

Not entirely stupid then, but I doubted his comrades would pick up on the concealed warning.

As he listened to their replies, the man started to sweat profusely. "Yeah, I've got it," he told them uselessly. "Watch your back, guys. Rai out."

The second he was done, I released the icy energy I had built up to knock him out. Having decided earlier to avoid injury as best as I could, I reflexively cushioned the enemy's fall with another power—a new one I hadn't used before. I looked down in surprise and watched how the man's bulky body floated an inch above the ground, buoyant in the air. I knelt down, passing my hand underneath him without resistance. This would come in handy.

Confirming the man was out for the count, I removed his earpiece and inserted it into my own ear. There were no voices, only silence, but someone would speak eventually. Sparing the floating man one last glance, I studied the window he'd been posted beneath. It was a bit small and high up, but I quietly pushed myself up and glance inside.

Beyond the window was a storage room filled with old camera's and reels, layered with dust. Landing inside with a slight thud, I crossed the room and pushed open its only door far enough to peer outside.

I sighed at Trepe's notion of "alone." At the end of the dark hallway a girl sat perched on the window sill of a barred window, her nunchakus placed within reach. I'd seen her before, at the motel.

Taking a moment to scope out my surroundings and options, I frowned when I couldn't discern any clear pattern to the girl's carefree behavior. She wasn't patrolling, but instead every once in a while she would glance to her right, most likely into a stairway judging from the angle of her gaze. Her coy glances were accompanied with winks and blow kisses. No more than a minute passed between each of her flirtatious overtures, as if the urge was compulsive. At one point she even initiated a game of rock-paper-scissors—and lost if her dramatic pout was anything to go by.

Reminding myself that these SeeDs trained children to become weapons, I decided not to underestimate her in spite of her appearance. Her amorous interest was also a complication. If I took her out, whoever was posted at the top of the stairs would know instantly and raise the alarm.

I wasted a few more precious seconds concluding all over again that there was no other way but forward. I had no time to backtrack, and all entrances would be guarded anyway. I needed to pass by her unnoticed.

I couldn't scale the walls; there was no purchase anywhere. The ceiling was too high, no niches along the way to conceal myself. It was open space all the way, the darkness inside my only cover.

...The ceilings. _High_ ceilings.

I looked up and remembered the large man still floating outside. In a moment of recklessness, I tried to remember what I had done and directed the magic at myself.

The plummeting sensation in my stomach briefly caught me off-guard as the magic rushed through me and lifted my feet from the ground. It wasn't enough however, so I did it again, until I was buoyant enough to push up into the air. In that very instant, I knew I had done this before. As the faint memory tugged at my mind, I materialized another, darker power, and recognized it as the same dark energy Seifer's demon had attacked us with back at the compound.

Weightlessness and gravity. I could manipulate what was up and what was down. Breathing slowly, I took a few seconds to center myself. This would probably be disorienting.

I waited until the girl was once again preoccupied with whoever resided atop the stairs, before I slipped out of the door and gave a slight shift to my center of gravity. My heart jumped into my throat at the sensation, but I managed to land into a crouch on the high ceiling, my boots not even making a sound upon impact. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, I inched towards the girl's position and glanced around the corner, catching sight of the girl's love interest—the gunslinger.

When she returned her gaze to the hallway, both lovers pretending at vigilance, she didn't even think to look up. Relieved, I acted on the brief window of time I had before they'd lock gazes again. I was learning quickly to follow my instincts, so when the girl was wearing a suitably bored expression, I released a burst of yet another magic—swift and invisible. She froze instantly, not with Shiva's ice, but simply... stopping all movement. She stared into the distance, as if her mind had wandered off.

Darting into the direction of her affections, I followed the ceiling of the staircase upwards to where the gunslinger sat slouched next to a stone balcony. I reached the space above him just in time to escape his line of sight when he looked over to his sweetheart.

He frowned at seemingly having lost the loving attention of the girl, and even tried to wave a few times to catch her attention, all to no avail. With a suffering sigh the man turned his gaze back to the entrance lobby below the balcony, where yet another woman stood posted. Next to him a large sniper rifle was set up with the barrel positioned between the balcony's balusters. It was a good but obvious spot. The sniper could remain hidden at all times with a prime view, but any self-respecting fighter would know to expect it when walking into that lobby.

"Selphie, _my middle name is Fickle_, Tilmitt—you'll be the death of me one day," the man mumbled with a shake of the head. He sullenly readjusted his cowboy hat, slumping back against the balcony.

It was almost too easy. Just like the women who had smiled at me while I'd pickpocketed them, these people failed to look out for the unexpected. Danger could come from anywhere, but here Trepe's men were, chatting on their comm devices and fraternizing with one another. It was almost insulting to be underestimated so severely.

Having only a few minutes left before Seifer would come in through those front doors, I readied the same magic I had used on the girl. I propelled it at the gunslinger beneath me, but immediately some kind of shield glinted in the air around him and deflected the energy. The man startled and shot his violet-colored gaze up at me in surprise.

"Holy, fucking Hyne—"

Acting swiftly, I conjured the gravity magic and yanked him up to the ceiling. The harsh impact forced all the air from his lungs, before he lost consciousness with a choked grunt. Plucking the hat from his head, I shoved him into the hallway and out of sight.

By the time the blond woman in the lobby looked up to see the cause of the gunslinger's curse, I'd dropped into place behind the balcony's balustrade. Tipping the cowboy hat low, I concealed my face and allowed the woman to spot my silhouette between the balusters. Judging by her immaculate uniform dress, she had to be Quistis Trepe—if the note had been truthful about that much.

"Trigger finger cramp," I mumbled into the earpiece, hoping no one was paying too close attention. Nobody sounded the alarm however, and after a pointed eye-roll, the blond woman turned back around to continue her vigil in front of the entrance doors.

Slinking back from sight, I looked to where the sniper had drifted to a stop, dangling mid-air only a small distance away from his incapacitated girlfriend. There'd be no more trouble from that corner, our escape route secured.

Turning my gaze back to the lobby below, I studied Trepe from my concealed position. Either she was the leader of our pursuers or she was a decoy, but somehow I knew I was looking at a genuine authority figure. She stood ramrod straight, her shoulders never slumping and her stern gaze never straying from the entrance.

Her subordinates had messed up because of their inattention, but _she_ had failed to notice me just the same. Her focus was too concentrated on her own individual task to notice small discrepancies such as a mumbled imitation of a team member's voice. It was a good thing I had already taken out the girl with the nunchakus. Foolish as it had been for her to be so distracted on the job, I'm sure she would have noticed her lover speaking with the wrong voice.

After having been chased by them and now observing them, it occurred to me that they were a good team, but not nearly as good as Seifer and me. They made crucial mistakes—in part because they consistently underestimated us, and in part because the group's leader clearly didn't inspire enough discipline among her ranks.

Trepe was dangerous enough however for me to place her exposed back in the crosshairs of my newly appropriated rifle. She might not be carrying the whip she had used during our last encounter, but this was no doubt to pretend at harmlessness when Seifer made his arrival.

"I can see Seifer outside. He looks unarmed, and he's alone. Maybe he's scoping out the place," Trepe said, her voice duplicated into the earpiece I'd taken. "It looks like he's coming in any moment. Everyone at their post?"

"Zell here, nothing to report on the west wing," a young man's voice sounded.

"Sniper in place," I drawled again, camouflaging the bad imitation by tapping on the earpiece to create static.

"SOUTH. NOTHING." I winced at the high-pitched static that rang into my earpiece, the result of the woman's unnaturally loud and staccato voice.

"Hyne, Fuu, can you dial it down a bit?" the young man complained. "We'll all go deaf at this rate."

Down in the lobby, Trepe turned to look up at the balcony and squinted. "Irvine, get me some eyes in the east wing. Why isn't Selphie calling in?"

Ducking a bit lower behind the balcony and large cowboy hat, I paused long enough to account for an inspection of the hallway to my left. "Comm. malfunction," I drawled into the earpiece, once again disguising my voice behind static.

"This whole thing has Selphie off her game, man," the young man spoke into the comm line. "Gadgets and tech, that's supposed to be her thing—"

"Rai, call in now. Seifer's just a few seconds away," Trepe interrupted, her gaze returning to the entrance.

"Nothing here. Rai out," I said as gruffly and curtly as possible, tapping at my earpiece again.

"I read you," Trepe confirmed. "Selphie, if you can hear this, please be better prepared next time. This isn't up to your standard and you know it... Okay everybody, it's show time. He's here."

She tried to loosen her tense posture in an attempt to look welcoming, but did a poor job of it. Her gaze was focused solely on Seifer, her back turned to me and leaving me some leeway to try and signal at the man.

He pushed the front doors open with his usual cockiness, and I was relieved to see no trace of the nervousness he'd displayed before. He made a show of inspecting the lobby, immediately spotting me when I briefly pushed up from behind the balcony railing and lifted the hat.

I prayed the woman would think nothing more of Seifer's smirk than arrogance. He gestured around and said, "I see you've come alone as promised. Trepe, was it?"

"I'm Quistis Trepe," the woman confirmed. "I have come alone, but it looks like you have as well. Where is Squall?"

"Well Trepe, if you know us as well as you say you do, you know he's a stubborn son of a bitch," Seifer said cheerfully, slowly walking around the lobby and luring her gaze to him. "He didn't like the thought of us coming here, thought it might be a trap. _I _thought it was the best chance we'd get at fixing our little problem once and for all, so I had to... _temporarily_ incapacitate him. He's somewhere safe."

I frowned at his storytelling that again painted me in a bad light, but at least Trepe seemed to accept his excuse at face value. Catching his gaze from between the balusters, I covertly signaled that the east was cleared, but that there were two more foes to the west and south. This time his face didn't betray anything.

"You see, I don't trust you one bit, Trepe. If this _is _a trap and I don't make it out alive, he'll go out of his way to obliterate your sorry ass." He raised his hands in surrender. "_However_, I'm willing to give you a chance here. Prove me wrong."

Trepe walked closer to him, but the sudden red glow to Seifer's eyes brought her to a halt.

"There's no need for posturing here, Seifer. Until you understand, I won't expect you to unjunction, but hear me out. You _can_ trust me."

Seifer frowned. "What the fuck does _unjunction _mean? That's the second time I'm being told that by you and your goons."

Trepe raised her hands in a soothing manner and walked a bit closer. "It means to call your GFs—your Guardian Forces—back from your mind, make them recede to the background. It's a show of faith. I have three Guardian Forces myself, but I'm keeping them dormant."

"_Guardian Forces_," the blond echoed. "So that's what it stands for. Guess it's too much to hope _SeeD_ stands for something less lame?"

"_SeeD_ and _Garden_ are code names our organization used when it was still in its infancy and when secrecy was paramount," Trepe answered with a hint of impatience. "We've kept them. There is no acronym."

Seifer barked out a laugh at that. "Dear Hyne, it's even worse than I thought! You're telling me Cupcake and I belong to a group as painfully unoriginal as that?"

"What we're called is irrelevant," the woman said, openly annoyed now, but then she paused. "_Cupcake_?" she repeated incredulously. "I'll hand it to you, that's a new one."

"Thought names were irrelevant, Trepe."

"It's just strange hearing you call him anything other than 'Leonhart.' Aside from insults, that is," she replied coolly.

"_Leonhart_," the blond repeated, and he chanced a quick glance in my direction. I froze at the sound of it—the name rang truer than "Cupcake" ever had, but it didn't necessarily feel any better.

"So you know a few things. Doesn't mean you're not the enemy," he said, concealing his glance by letting his gaze wander the entirety of the lobby again. Paranoia was a likely enough guise for his actions.

She sighed and shook her head. "If you would drop the antagonism for just _one_ minute, I could explain," she said evenly, her voice tight. "So please, for the love of Hyne, shut up and _listen_."

With a lot of dramatics, Seifer crossed his arms and let his eyes glow a deep-hot red. "I'm all ears, Trepe."

"What an _ass_," I heard the young, male voice crackle into my earpiece.

"CRUSH!" the one-word woman shouted in response, bringing a frown to her boss's expression, but Trepe quickly smoothed it over.

"So I will _explain_ then," Trepe said firmly, trying to silence her noisy associates without alerting Seifer.

"Explain away, Trepe, I'm not gettin' any younger," he barked impatiently, at the same time catching my signal that the man to the west somehow had eyes on him.

She gave him a hard glare, but yielded. "You were sent on a solo mission a month ago, commissioned by the Estharian government. Your objective was to look into a train heist and an armed robbery. Garden was involved because of the nature of the stolen items: the transport train from Esthar to Balamb contained materials to build and maintain magic perimeters. These materials are a standard part of the trade agreement Garden has with Esthar. In robbing Esthar, they also robbed us."

"Huh," Seifer interrupted. "Cupcake was right then." He slowly sauntered a few more steps, never standing still. Trepe followed his every motion, her gaze fixed.

"Right about what?"

"He said you guys probably got all your fancy gadgets from Esthar. He was right."

Trepe's lips tightened, but she kept her composure. "It is no secret Garden and Esthar have a trade agreement, but the exact content and schedule of the transport trains—those _are_ secret," she explained with faux calm. "A week later Odine's laboratory—a prominent magic research center in Esthar—was robbed. Again, very specific blueprints and research were stolen."

"Specific to what?" the blond demanded.

"Specific to the containment of great magical power, which was in line with the train heist. You were deployed on the mission to find out who was behind the thefts and what they were planning, and if possible to deliver them to us."

"Let me guess, I ended up in their underground cell?" Seifer said with a snort.

Trepe nodded. "An anti-Garden terrorist faction. They stumbled across an ancient Centran temple that held a very unusual GF. They needed our technology to harness it and use it against us."

"Unusual in what way?"

"The cause of your amnesia," the woman explained. She finally dared to inch a bit closer to the blond, perhaps encouraged by his receptiveness to her story. I adjusted my finger on the rifle's trigger, moving the crosshairs to her head. One wrong move...

"The Guardian Force was buried in that ruin for centuries." She shook her head, seeming genuinely sad. "Lethe is old and powerful, but imprisoned like that for ages, she became unstable... Our specialists are still busy translating the ruin's stone inscriptions, but so far we know she was used by the Centrans as a keeper and guardian of memories."

"Keeper of memories, huh," the blond muttered angrily. "Where's this bitch now? You have her?"

Trepe scowled at him, pointing a lecturing finger. "It wasn't Lethe's fault. The GF was stolen from the Centran ruin by the terrorist faction, and was exploited by them. The technology they used to contain her was crude, but effective. A few hours ago, one of our teams finished uncovering her statue from the site you and Squall destroyed."

"The site _we_ destroyed?!" Seifer bellowed. "You think all those GFs running wild had nothing to do with it?"

"You should consider yourself lucky they kept her sealed on the upper floor in a reinforced bunker, and not with the other GF consoles down below," Trepe said, waltzing right over his complaint. "She's the only chance you have at regaining your memories."

"I don't like your tone, Trepe," Seifer said threateningly. "Those monsters down there were out to kill us. We did what we had to."

"A sad consequence of your memory loss," the woman said with a small nod. "Nothing we can do about it now. We managed to recover five of our own GFs, and three others. We found them roaming aimlessly in the area surrounding the collapsed compound. The missing GFs either escaped or died... I'm sure we'll receive new commissions to deal with the more dangerous escapees soon."

"Not my fucking problem, Trepe. I saw a demon, I fried it."

She cast him an assessing gaze and frowned. "You weren't the ones who caused the security breach?"

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"The GFs... We thought you and Squall had set them free—maybe unwittingly."

Seifer shrugged. "Wish I could take the credit, Trepe, but the beasties were already out when Cupcake and I got out of our cells," he said indifferently.

Something about their conversation had caused Shiva to stir, her amusement a silver chime in my mind. I let her feel my question, and she answered by planting a series of impressions in my thoughts—a dark console where she had been deprived of her senses, one crude man after the other trying to make her submit, and ultimately a plan she had formed to counter their incessant harassments.

I smiled at the realization. /_You finally let one of them draw you, and you ... tricked him? Made him freeze himself?_/ I had experienced her bewitching nature myself, and could imagine it well.

She confirmed my question with images of cracking metal and frozen blood, one console after the other bursting open. Some GFs had followed her lead once freed. She let me feel the panic she had experienced in that metal prison—the urgency to find me again, to free me by any means necessary.

I had no words to thank her for that kind of loyalty—to choose me over freedom. She dismissed my speechlessness with a gentle spark of affection, and then reminded me of the conversation that was still ongoing down in the lobby. I smiled when she retreated to the back of my mind, and refocused my attention on Seifer and the SeeD.

"So they wanted to use this Lethe as a weapon against you."

"Against _us_," the woman corrected. "That's where Squall comes in."

Seifer flashed an arrogant grin. "And here I thought _I _was your story's one and only star."

"It's not a _story_, it's the truth," Trepe reiterated tersely. "Two weeks after the robberies—one week after you left on your mission—a rookie party of four SeeDs went missing. They were on a routine mission in South Esthar, nothing top-secret or high priority. Three days later they reappeared a few miles off the southern Centran coast, without a single memory of who they were."

I stiffened, my unease growing. She had too many details, seemingly too random. If they were all lies, she had gone out of her way to create one hell of an implausible story. A simpler story would've done a better job if she was out to string us along. Judging by Seifer's frown and crossed arms, he didn't like it one bit either.

"No memories. Like Cupcake and me?"

"Exactly like Squall and you," Trepe nodded. "Soon after their retrieval, a second party went missing, in Galbadia this time. They reappeared in Centra a few days later as well, and these operatives...They had been high rank, no rookies like the first missing group."

She paused, her keen gaze studying the effect of her words on Seifer. "We had no choice but to put Squall himself on the case. We couldn't afford a story about missing SeeDs leaking to the press. Squall went to Centra with two other party members to hunt down and eliminate the perpetrators."

"I see where you're going, Trepe," Seifer interrupted, walking up to her. "But what I don't get is how they got to either of us. Cupcake is damned capable, and so am I."

"Capable, but not infallible," the woman said with a wry smile. "I don't know how they captured you, but one of Squall's party members was killed immediately upon discovery. According to our risk analysis the target was most likely a small group, operating independently. It turned out to be a terrorist organization, strong in numbers. Squall drew the brunt of their attack to himself in order to let the third party member escape and get back-up." She cocked her head then. "I believe you have met him; our gun specialist. His name is Irvine."

Seifer snorted. "_Cowboy_—can't say the pleasure was mine." He squared his shoulders, and cast her an unimpressed look. "So you failed to assess the risk accurately, sent me in solo, and then sent Cupcake in with two incompetent losers... That about the gist of it? Just how expendable are we to you?"

The woman bristled and immediately launched into a defense. "Squall and you are not expendable!" she said firmly. "We don't take deploying our Commander lightly, and we had no reason for thinking your mission and his were in any way related. The moment Irvine made his way back to us and reported what happened, we started the search."

A cool rush of anger surged through me at her crucial omission. Clearly, Seifer hadn't missed it either.

"Sounds to me like that search didn't include me, Trepe," he said darkly. "So Cupcake is some big, hot-shot Commander, but I'm not worth the light of day, is that it?"

She didn't immediately reply, a contrite expression crossing her face. "You have to understand, Seifer, that you aren't exactly the most... _easy_ operative to deal with."

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

"You disregard orders, you don't play well with party members and you antagonize your superiors any chance you get," she replied flatly. "You've mostly done solo missions—at your own request and to our relief. When you didn't call in for a few days, we chalked it up to another one of those _holidays_ you like to give yourself when you're off our grid. The mission wasn't labeled high-priority at the time, and we trusted you'd finish it on your own terms. You usually do."

Seifer looked at her incredulously. "So when the fuck _did_ you notice one of your operatives went missing?"

"When we had satellite images of you and Squall fleeing the terrorist's base together," she said, failing to keep her voice unfazed. "That's when we knew the two cases were related."

"You know what," Seifer said, pacing back and forth, punctuating his rant with wild hand gestures. "I say you're full of bullshit, Trepe. We thought maybe we belonged to a group of vigilantes, mercenaries, terrorists even—_anything_ but such a sorry bunch of fuck-ups!" He turned around on his heels, walking up to her until he loomed over her. "If you're not lying, give me one reason why I shouldn't hand in my fucking resignation right now!"

She took a calming breath, her fists clenching by her sides, but she didn't step back. "Because no matter how difficult you make things for us, you are a good operative. You could be one of our _best,_ if only you chose to. We need you and Squall back with us." She swallowed and cast him a pleading look. "...For most people like us, Garden is the closest thing to family we'll ever know. You have friends there."

Unfurling his arms, Seifer took a step back. "...People like us."

She nodded. "Orphans. Misfits. Child soldiers," she said solemnly. "The first few generations of SeeDs were all drafted from kids without homes."

"I knew it was bad news to come here." He snorted and shook his head. "I'd really hoped my life wouldn't be as pathetic as _this_. A low-rank goon working for incompetent fucks."

He cast a brief glance in my direction, and then faced Trepe head-on. "Enough with the charade," he said with a commanding voice. "Time to call out your back-up, Trepe. Have them report to the lobby unarmed. I see even _one_ glimpse of a weapon, _one_ wrong move, and you'll never see me or Cupcake again." He grinned darkly. "They can also go ahead and _unjunction_."

I smiled in spite of everything we'd just overheard, and relished the woman's stunned expression. After all the unpalatable facts we had to endure, it was only fair to restore some sense of balance.

Trepe didn't bother excusing or covering up her deceit. Instead she composed herself and met Seifer's gaze. "Everything I've told you is the truth," she insisted, before calling in her back-up. "Show's over guys. Everybody come down to the lobby. Leave your weapons behind."

Readying my magic, I kept my finger on the trigger and I scanned all corners of the lobby for the two operatives I hadn't incapacitated. Trepe and Seifer were staring each other down while they waited, and the woman didn't seem to call me out on the fact that her gunslinger hadn't made himself known yet. I suppressed a snort—if she thought she was holding on to one last trump card, she was mistaken.

Soon a sullen looking man came walking in through the eastern entryway, and I recognized him as one of the men who had accosted Seifer in the motel room. He was accompanied by a silver-haired woman. She didn't look at all like what I would've guessed from her harsh, one-word speech. The only thing that contrasted with her tiny and fragile appearance was her intense red-eyed stare, her other eye covered up with a patch.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Seifer snapped with an eye-roll when he caught them staring at him. The woman had been studying him almost deferentially, the tattooed man with insolence.

By now Trepe was frowning, looking around the lobby for the others. "I _said_, come down to the lobby."

Seifer grinned broadly and looked up at the balcony. "You heard the lady, Cupcake. Come on down and say hello."

I sighed at his dramatics, and stood up from behind cover. I lifted off the ridiculous cowboy hat, climbed up on the railing and cushioned my landing down in the lobby with a touch of the weightless magic.

Everyone apart from Seifer was looking at me with wide eyes. As I stalked closer, I made sure they all saw the silver in my eyes.

"Did you—" Trepe stammered, her voice filled with horror. "Did you kill them?"

"The big one and the gunslinger are KO'd. The girl is immobilized," I deadpanned. "They're safe enough for now."

"Oh, thank Hyne," the woman exclaimed, visibly relieved. She turned to her only two remaining operatives. "Please go check on them."

Seifer grinned and tutted. "I don't think so, Trepe. You don't get to call in the cavalry just yet."

"_If _we decide to trust you and go with you," I said evenly, "we will need some... guarantees."

Looking between us in momentary bewilderment, she thought better of whatever complaint she'd been about to utter and shook her head in defeat. "Dear Hyne, Squall, you're not making this easy... What more do you need?"

"How are you planning to heal our amnesia?" I asked firmly. "I'm not sure you can. Stone inscriptions and an unstable GF are not the same as a cure."

"Good question," Seifer agreed, taking up position next to me. "Personally I don't give a fuck about loyalty to the cause, or your little broken family of orphans, Trepe. Either you have something to offer us, or we leave."

Taken aback, Trepe sent Seifer a nasty glare, before turning her gaze and focus to me. "There's no reason for him to—"

"You're answering to the both of us," I interrupted harshly. "You've already admitted to disregarding Seifer in the past. That won't help you now."

"_Squall_!" she protested loudly, but I shook my head firmly.

Next to me, Seifer moved closer to me until our shoulders bumped. "You heard the man, Trepe. You better come up with a fucking miracle cure right now, or we hit the road," he reiterated smugly.

She wrung her hands, and for a moment I thought she'd give an order to subdue us, but then Trepe sighed and shook her head. "Right now our resident doctor and a team of researchers are trying to figure out the exact procedure," she admitted reluctantly. "We've recovered the statue Lethe is sealed in, but we haven't dared to draw her out of it yet. First we need to fully understand what she is capable of. That's where the ruin's inscriptions come in."

She paused, looking between us. "We know the temple was used for a final rite of passage. There's an altar right in front of where the statue used to be. The inscriptions describe a ritual where powerful, influential Centrans were brought to Lethe on their deathbed." She shook her head and corrected herself, "Or rather, the altar _was_ their deathbed. As they died, they sacrificed their memories and GFs to Lethe for safekeeping. It seems she would then pass their legacy on to worthy offspring or followers."

"GFs die when the master dies?" Seifer asked with a frown.

Trepe nodded. "If the master holds on to the junction until the moment of death. Ancient Centran culture definitely held that practice—they believed that GFs would guard their masters even in death. But it seems that this particular Centran cult was willing to sacrifice individual needs for the greater good."

"So Lethe takes GFs and memories," I said tersely. "Can you get her to give them back?"

Trepe gave an unsure shrug. "In theory she should be able to give it all back. It was part of her ritual function, after all. Right now she's highly unstable, however, and I doubt anyone has junctioned her for centuries. Besides," she said with a speculative glance. "You two already managed to get your GFs back. That simplifies things for our researchers."

"Clearly this bitch didn't come with a manual, so how the fuck did those imbeciles manage to use her?" Seifer asked, clearly starting to lose his patience.

"You simply have to touch her statue in order for it to drain you," Trepe admitted. "The inscriptions don't mention any exact procedure either, so I suppose the terrorists learned through trial and error, first incapacitating some of their own."

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, but Seifer was first to voice his with an ample dose of mockery. "Right, but not you guys, right? You dug up that statue completely consequence free, I bet."

Trepe sighed and rolled her eyes. "Some of our recovery team also lost their memories," she said evenly. "Does that make you feel better?"

Seifer simply grinned. "Apart from seeing you fall off your high horse?" he baited. "Certainly gives you some more incentive, I'd say."

"Fixing our Commander and his new _best friend_ is incentive enough," she retorted. "Anything else?"

Growing contemplative at her question, Seifer briefly met my gaze before turning to nod at our surroundings. "...What happened here?"

I glanced sideways, but his expression was steely and betrayed nothing of how much her answer mattered. If she knew this as well, then she could only be a close friend or an even closer enemy.

She looked between us uncertainly, sensing the importance of Seifer's question. "You don't mean tonight, do you?"

Neither of us replied, waiting for her answer.

"...It's been more than a year now—almost a year and a half actually," she started slowly, studying our expressions closely. "Garden took on a mission to liberate Timber from the Galbadian army's occupation, and both of you were involved. There were unexpected complications. Seifer was... compromised."

Her words sent a chill down my spine. We'd already known something had happened to Seifer, but hearing it confirmed by this stranger made it all the more real.

"_Compromised_, huh," Seifer said with quiet intensity. "You know I hate this place, so you choose it to set up this meeting of yours... So you can rattle me? Doesn't sound much like what a _friend_ would do."

Trepe was speechless for a second, but then she recovered. "I didn't know you hate this place," she said earnestly. "I thought your memories were gone completely. I just picked the most recognizable, central building in Timber."

"Recognizable and central," I agreed. "But also the best layout to set out sentries, and set up an ambush."

She crossed her arms at my accusation and raised an eyebrow. "You should be the first to admit you and Seifer are not exactly easy to pin down. The two of you are deadly when you want to be, and you seemed to have targeted us as enemies," she lectured. "The sentries were to ensure everyone's safety and best interest. Ours _and_ yours."

"Ensure our safety?" Seifer sneered. "Where the fuck were your goons when we fought our way out of that fucking dungeon, Trepe? I'd say we were better off before you guys showed up."

"I admit I handled things the wrong way, but I didn't know you'd lost your memories at first. We weren't sure why you didn't simply return to Garden—what the problem was." Trepe said, her shoulders tight. "Had I known, I would have sent in someone more... diplomatic than Zell and Irvine, to establish first impressions and set up a dialogue."

Seifer crossed his arms. "I'd say my first impression of Garden was spot on."

"Where would you need to take us?" I interrupted, not in the mood for their arguing.

"Balamb Garden," Trepe said evenly. "It's our main base, and your home. Our best and brightest are gathered there. It's your best shot."

"If you fail and we don't regain our memories, you can't expect us to return to our old lives," I warned. "If it comes to that, I need your word you won't stop us from leaving."

Seifer snorted quietly, but he also waited for her answer.

Trepe's eyes hardened and she nodded. "If you promise me you'll give us a fair chance. We might need some time to figure it out."

"Give us a moment to discuss this," I said evenly.

"Go right ahead. We're not going anywhere."

I turned to look at Seifer. He jerked his head to the back of the lobby and started in that direction, looking about as unnerved as I felt. Out of earshot, we put our backs to the three SeeDs and stood close enough to mask our voices.

"I hate to say it, Cupcake, but that story is too farfetched to be all lies. At least some of it is the truth," Seifer whispered, his brow knotted in a scowl. "I think I'd prefer that trap now—kick all their asses and get the fuck out of here."

I hummed my agreement. The thought of following these strangers into the unknown didn't sit well with me, especially if they expected me to be a commander. I'd imagined being an operative of _some_ kind, but not the kind with any real responsibility beyond a partner or a squad. I was also far from pleased with how Trepe had spoken about Seifer.

"Even if it's all true, are we sure we want to go back?" I asked, meeting his gaze.

"No need to tell _me_, Cupcake," he huffed. "Trepe seems to like you a whole lot better than me... Something tells me I'm at the bottom of their pecking order. All that talk of friends and family—maybe there's something in it for you, but not for me."

"We've come too far for you to talk like we're not in this together," I said firmly. "You don't want to be bossed around, and I don't want to be anyone's boss... Hence my question."

Catching my meaning, he stared at me for a long time. "You'd tell them to fuck off?" He grinned then. "Elope with me?"

"If we decided it's for the better. She's mentioned nothing I want to return to. This could be a chance to start over."

His grin eased into a smile and for a moment I thought he might accept, but then he shook his head and sighed. "A tempting offer, Cupcake, but that sounds a lot like running away."

"_You_ were the one who wanted to run away," I bit out quietly, starting to feel cornered by the inevitable.

His smile returned. "And _you_ convinced me not to," he reminded. "Didn't you want to know who you are? Don't give up at the first sign of something you don't like... I know _I_ want to find out."

"Since _when_," I said brusquely.

"I love it when you go all sulky on me," he teased, refusing to take my bait and get angry. "But you know I'm right. And hell, we can still ditch them if our former lives turn out to be absolute shit. No prison can hold us against our will."

He slung his arm over my shoulder and jostled me playfully. "Maybe Garden won't be that bad. Or maybe this amnesia thing will be just the eye-opener we needed to fucking resign. Either way, we'll be fine."

We both knew he had won the argument. For once he was the voice of reason, and I was the one yielding reluctantly, but I couldn't shake the feeling that this was a mistake. A sense of déjà vu took hold of me, telling me this had happened before—strangers taking us away to a new, frightening place. Somehow I knew we'd lost each other after that. The half remembered emotions made me feel small and helpless.

It was a childish fear, and I didn't voice any of it as we walked back to the three waiting SeeDs. Seifer didn't seem to remember any of the sort, confident enough of the control he had over his own fate.

"It's your lucky day, Trepe," he announced loudly. "We're coming."

The woman let out a sigh and her shoulders sagged slightly with the release of tension. "I'm glad you made the right decision. You won't regret it," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. Somehow she seemed less... formal now, her mask of authority falling away.

She faced the two SeeDs who had been quiet until now. "Fujin, you go retrieve Raijin. Zell, go get Irvine and Selphie," she said—not with the voice of a leader, but with the relief that came at the end of a hard battle.

"...Yeah, sure thing," the tattooed man said, casting us an odd look before he dashed away.

"AFFIRMATIVE," the silver haired woman bellowed. She walked up to Seifer and gave him a firm slap on the shoulder that managed to jostle the large man. "HAPPY. BACK."

Seifer frowned and stared her down. "Can't say I'm quite so ecstatic, Eyepatch."

"RAGE!" she barked, but her one eye squinted into a barely repressed smile. It was obvious she held genuine affection for him, and I could tell Seifer was thrown off by it. He watched her walk away with knotted eyebrows.

"Dear Hyne," Quistis said with a sigh. "I hate to admit it, but the two of you put us to shame." She met my gaze and smiled wistfully. "I'm not looking forward to my debriefing after you regain your memory."

"I really am a commander?" I asked with a frown.

"You are," she said, sobering at my uncertainty. "You're the head of the SeeD mercenary division—our leader. I'm the head of Balamb Garden's training division—the headmistress."

"So each Garden has a commander and a headmaster?" I asked, feeling overwhelmed.

She shook her head. "Each Garden has a headmaster, but there's only one commander—_the_ SeeD Commander. That's you."

Seifer whistled lowly and met my gaze. "Guess we now know why you like to order my ass around."

I instantly hated my supposed status when I noticed something close off in Seifer's expression. He didn't look openly upset, but I knew we both felt the distance my rank put between us. He'd been so sure when stating we _had_ to be partners, but now... now it seemed that in the eyes of Garden we weren't even equals. I couldn't imagine him as my _subordinate_. It was wrong on too many levels.

"You naughty, naughty Squall!" an excitable female voice suddenly sounded in my earpiece. "I always knew you were sneaky, but that was unfair!"

"Squall cast a Stop spell on her," the tattooed man explained into the comm. line.

"And poor Irvie is stuck against the ceiling!" the girl squeaked indignantly. "He's got a bump the size of an egg on his head, Squall! You better be prepared to pay the price!"

Zell snorted. "Yeah, as in prepare to help out with her Laguna fan club."

"Oooh! Great idea! You can help me get some intimate family snapshots!" the girl squealed, at which point I pulled out the earpiece and Quistis launched into a lecture to hurry up and stop playing around.

Seifer looked at me with a raised eyebrow, but I just shook my head. I suddenly had the feeling that being the commander of these people might not be quite the accomplishment we'd first assumed.

"A leader of fools is a fool himself," I muttered, which to my relief brought a grin to the blond's face.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Cupcake," he said while swinging an arm around my shoulder. "You just need a good right hand. Advance me through the ranks, and I'll pound some sense and discipline into these losers."

I huffed. "You can have the job."

"Hyne, help us," Trepe muttered, her gaze fixed on Seifer's playful proximity to me. "Come on, you two. We're heading to the edge of town."

"What's at the edge of town?" Seifer asked, pointedly keeping his arm where it was.

"Our ride home," she answered, heading to the entrance doors.

"Like that aircraft of yours we crashed?"

"Something like it." Trepe glanced back over her shoulder. "It's called the Ragnarok. Selphie's our pilot today, so I'd strap in tightly if I were you."

Seifer huffed. "I'll deal, as long as Chicken and Cowboy sit far away from me."

Trepe cast Seifer an amused look. "Even without your memories, you're the same as always. You never could call a person by their actual name."

Seifer scowled and crossed his arms. "Hmmm, what might _your_ nickname have been," he said mockingly. "Something tells me you're the uptight type. You know—in love with clipboards and statistics."

I tuned out when I realized the two were going to bicker all the way to the aircraft—Seifer with genuine annoyance and Quistis with a hidden smile that never seemed to waver... Perhaps her opinion of Seifer wasn't as bad as she had led me to believe.

The other SeeDs caught up with us quickly on our way out of town. As I studied them, it took some effort to think of them with their proper names instead of the nicknames Seifer had given them.

Selphie was hanging off of Irvine's arm, and she was by far the most excitable of the group. She chatted on happily as she scolded Seifer and me, and plotted ways to make us repay the perceived debt. Her grudge didn't seem to run too deep however, as she also kept retelling the part of the chase she had found most thrilling. Being blown into the river in spite of her piloting skills had apparently left an impression.

"I never thought I'd get permission to hunt down my commanding officer," she said cheerfully. "Of course I had to give it my all!"

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, darling," Irvine drawled, a tone of seduction never far away from his voice.

The gunslinger seemed laid back—_too_ laid back for the man to be a mercenary in my opinion. He grinned quietly during most of the conversation, only speaking up every once in a while to flirt with Selphie or to make a poignant observation. Perhaps that was his strong point as a sniper—observation and watching from the sidelines. A mediator. He seemed to be the only one capable of calming Zell down in any case, his languid drawl better received by the martial artist than Quistis' lecturing tone or Selphie's excited babbling.

The tattooed man was almost as energetic as Selphie, launching into outbursts of indignation at some of Seifer's taunts, but most of the time he hung back quietly and walked by my side. He didn't seem to expect conversation from me, but his gaze persistently kept wandering my way.

"_What_?" I asked tersely.

"Ah, nothing," he said quickly, seeming embarrassed. "It's just... This whole ordeal... It's a bit of a mind fuck, you know? I know it's probably lots more confusing for you and all, but you don't have to worry. We'll get you fixed up in no time, you'll see!"

I could tell he wanted some kind of reassurance from me, which I was in no position to give. It was clear he didn't like Seifer much, judging by all the glares and taunts exchanged between the two. He sent me disappointed glances whenever I failed to side with him, or allowed Seifer within my personal space.

My head was starting to hurt at suddenly being surrounded by so many loud and opinionated people. Seifer at least seemed to be faring better. Whenever he wasn't arguing with Quistis or provoking Zell, he was talking with the silver-haired woman and the bulky giant.

I listened in as Raijin talked about something called the Disciplinary Committee, relaying story after story of things the three of them had done together—everything from pranks and detention to hunting trips. Now and then Fujin would interject with a kick to Raijin's shin, or a one-word correction of the man's storytelling. I watched uncertainly as Seifer started to thaw to the two colorful characters, asking questions and laughing at some of the more unbelievable stories.

A divide started to become apparent. Fujin and Raijin had stuck to Seifer from the get-go, moving to his side as if they were his loyal followers. Their stories certainly painted Seifer in the leader role of their little group—a group that didn't include me.

Quistis had been right. Seifer _did_ have friends at Garden. I didn't know what it was _I_ had apart from a title. A leader's respect, maybe? Although nobody was outright dismissive of me, it was clear they didn't expect me to mingle in and react the way they expected it of Seifer. Whether that was because of my status as commander, I wasn't sure.

Already I started to miss it just being Seifer and me—simpler and... closer. I didn't know how to behave among these strangers who seemed to know me. Seifer thrived in this sort of situation, at the center of everyone's attention, while I... My first instinct was to shut down and keep everyone at an arm's length.

By the time we'd made it out of the city and the silhouette of a large, insectoid aircraft appeared in the middle of a barley field, I was at the edge of my endurance and in much need for some solitude.

"My baby!" Selphie crooned, running ahead. Under her ministrations, the red craft came to life with gleaming lights and the back of the hull opened up into a lowering walkway with an automated whir.

Seifer whistled at the impressive sight. "Now that one's bigger than the one we totaled."

"She sure is!" Selphie said proudly. "Ragnarok is the fastest aircraft in the world, and it can even go into space."

"Uh... Which isn't where we're going right now, are we?" the blond asked doubtfully.

"_No_, you big scaredy-cat," the girl said with a giggle. "It'll be nothing more than an uneventful, run-of-the-mill flight to Balamb."

"Don't you believe it," Irvine said conspiratorially, before getting into the Ragnarok.

As people started to file into the aircraft, Seifer turned around to find me. He raised an eyebrow at whatever expression he found on my face.

"You guys go ahead," he said to his two new friends when they didn't show any sign of giving us some privacy.

"Those two are a bit clingy, aren't they," he said jokingly when they had gone inside. He bumped his shoulders against mine. "Do you know you look like someone killed your puppy?"

I sighed and tried to let go of some of the tension that had built inside me. "I can't adjust as fast as you."

"Gotta roll with the punches, Cupcake," he said with a shrug. "These people are our only way of regaining our memories. Can't hurt our cause to butter them up a bit, make them think we're no longer a threat. Personally I'd prefer not to have a guard detail on my ass the entire time we're there."

He grinned and guided me up the ramp with a gentle push. "You're useless when you can't solve things by fighting, aren't you?"

I glared at him, but was secretly happy for the distraction his banter offered me.

"You're doing fine," he continued with mock reassurance, pointing at Zell. "See? You already have one googly-eyed admirer."

Unable to overhear Seifer's words, Zell looked at us in suspicion and scowled.

In the front, Selphie and Irvine had settled down in the cockpit, the aircraft jolting and the engine whirring more loudly with each switch she flicked. In the back there were four rows with three seats each, heavy-duty belts providing security. The passenger seats were clearly installed in the craft at some later point, bolted into place.

Zell and Quistis were seated in the front row, the tattooed man gesturing for me to take the third seat next to him. Behind them Raijin was waving Seifer over.

"Sorry, guys," Seifer announced loudly, "but the commander and I will hang back for a bit." He pulled me with him to the last row of seats and pushed me down into one of them. "Buckle up, Cupcake."

I didn't even have it in me to muster a glare for his manhandling when all I felt was relief. He sent me a knowing smirk as he flopped down in the seat next to me. For the first time since infiltrating the broadcast station, the tense knot in my stomach loosened.

He ignored everyone's incredulous stares and made himself comfortable, crowding into my space with his elbows and long legs. "Nunchakus!" he bellowed. "Floor that pedal!"

"Yessir!" she whooped excitedly. The next moment we were hurtled into the air, the night sky rushing us by in a blur as we sped towards an unknown home.

* * *

**Author's Note:** [3rd of May, 2014] Once again, thanks to all my reviewers and readers :3 Sooo, the story is taking a slightly different turn from here on out. There's only four chapters left, so shaking up the status quo a little is overdue, isn't it? See you next weekend!


	7. Two's Company, Three's a Crowd

**~ Chapter Seven - Two's Company, Three's a Crowd ~  
**

* * *

Lounging back on a bench in the Quad, I watched the bustle of cadets as they either relaxed in the autumn sun with friends or sat isolated, their noses buried in books. Some were even goofing around with frisbees, balls and other such crap. They looked as green as the primly landscaped garden they were relaxing in. What kind of mercenary training center was this anyway—it had a park, fountains and a swimming pool, for Hyne's sake.

_Boring as fuck_.

I sighed and let my head thud back against the bench. Having finished up my own extensive physical and magical examination, it was now Cucpake's turn to be subjected to Doc Kadowaki's needles and probes. Fujin and Raijin, the only other two people in the entirety of Balamb Garden who seemed to trust me and accept me for who I was, were also otherwise engaged. The gentle giant had been sent off on a mission he'd put off for my sake, while Fujin had weapons' classes to teach.

I snorted in silent amusement. I had no doubt she scared the shit of out these newbie cadets. Hell, she even managed to intimidate _me_ with her barked orders to stay out of trouble. But staying cooped up inside, hiding from the world until they "fixed" me was not my style.

Trepe had cautioned us not to leave our assigned guest rooms, lest we upset the locals. It would be better for moral not to let the kiddies and SeeDs find out about their commander's temporary incapacitation, so we were told not to raise suspicions with out-of-the-norm behavior. As Cupcake liked to say, _whatever_. No way I was going to sit around like a good boy in wait, confined to the most bland quarters I'd ever laid eyes on.

And that begged the question; why the hell hadn't they assigned us to our own quarters? If Balamb Garden was indeed our home, one would think we'd have permanent rooms here. Perhaps they didn't want anything to jog our memories prematurely, or perhaps we didn't actually _have_ quarters here and they had lied to us after all. When confronted about it, Trepe had merely explained it would be better for us to remember everything ourselves, instead of receiving snippets of out-of-context information.

At least I'd been able to relish the stupid expression on all of their faces when we'd requested our rooms to be right next to each other. They were delusional if they thought they could separate us and pull any tricks. We were still being left high and dry on the information front, though.

Without an account and password, the library's database had been a dead end. The people working there had been less than accommodating, citing regulations left and right, but I knew Trepe was behind this as well. It all stank of deceit to me.

A lot of things didn't add up. Everyone here revered Cupcake as if the man could walk on water, as if his farts smelled of fucking roses. When we'd first arrived late the previous night, the few SeeDs and cadets that had still been up had all stopped to salute the brunet. It had been ridiculous, and all the attention had caused Cupcake to grow more and more withdrawn.

But as much as their treatment of Cupcake got on my nerves, it paled in comparison to how I was treated. The youngest cadets seemed to almost stumble over their feet in their haste to get away from me. The older cadets felt safe enough to just stare at me and let me pass, but I could sense their hostility. The actual SeeDs either glared at me, or ignored me as if I was beneath them.

Ever since I had set foot inside Balamb Garden, it had been made crystal clear to me just how unwelcome and undeserving I was, but whenever I tried to approach anyone to ask what their Hyne damned problem was, they scurried away or threatened to call in the headmistress to deal with my "rowdiness." I'd _show_ them fucking rowdy.

I sighed and took in the large circle of space that had vacated around my bench the moment I'd sat myself down, as if I was fucking contagious. Suppressing the urge to stir up some real trouble, enough to warrant their shitty attitude, I tilted my head back to watch the blue sky above. A brisk, ocean wind was rustling the leaves above my head, and even higher up, seagulls were circling above the Quad, on the hunt for treats and crumbs the cadets left behind.

Cupcake and I had stood amazed when Balamb Garden had uprooted and risen into the air shortly after we'd arrived. I couldn't fathom what kind of powerful engines had to be hidden in the belly of the large vessel for it to carry so much weight at such a leisurely pace. We'd been told we were on a heading for Fisherman Horizon—somewhere in the middle of the fucking ocean—for overdue refitting and system checks. To me it seemed more like a poorly veiled attempt at grounding us...Or well, keeping us from leaving in any case.

Especially Trepe seemed anxious we'd bail the moment she'd turn her back on us. As if flying a good long distance above the ocean would keep us from jumping ship the moment we decided to leave. They should've learned by now Cupcake and I did whatever the hell we pleased.

For now however, I put up with all the crap, because the Doc genuinely seemed to be on to something. Cupcake and I had visited her in her lab early this morning, where she'd been working together with several of her apprentices and a raven-haired girl who claimed to be a sorceress of all things. The mere thought had caused a shiver to run down my spine, but she'd seemed innocent enough.

According to them they were close to finding a way to safely draw and junction Lethe. _Soon_, they'd promised. The sorceress chick had almost seemed too eager at the progress, and I hadn't missed the way she looked at Cupcake with longing eyes. The dolt had been too stupid to notice, soothing my jealousy only slightly when he'd failed to recognize her attempts to instigate conversation.

Hyne, I disliked her, and not only because she was making eyes at Cupcake. She gave off a vibe I couldn't pinpoint, an unnatural aura I didn't want touching me.

"Here you are," a languid drawl suddenly sounded, someone sitting down next to me. "You're a hard man to find."

I groaned inwardly. I had purposefully tried to avoid the gang of do-gooders, their questions and well-meaning intentions getting old pretty fast. To find out they were supposed to be the mercenary elite of this sorry establishment hadn't inspired much respect. I tilted my head to see the gunslinger watching me with his assessing, violet eyes.

"Cowboy," I said in unwelcome greeting.

He shook his head with a breathy laugh, and gestured at the deserted space around us. "I see you're making friends as usual."

"What can I say. These kiddies know their place."

"Respect earns respect," the man said simply, but it didn't sound like a compliment. "Word is Squall almost finished his examinations. Kadowaki thinks she's found a solution. She's working on the specifics now."

I quirked an eyebrow. "So fast?"

He nodded. "Rinoa volunteered to draw Lethe. She might be the only one who can do it without losing her own memory."

"The sorceress?" I asked doubtfully. To have her involved even more closely than she already was didn't sit well with me.

"Yup, that would be the one," he said in a nonchalant drawl. "She's the only one able to touch the statue without being affected."

"Lucky us," I snorted.

He looked at me oddly. "You don't like her?" he asked, far too observant.

"Don't tell me you don't feel it," I said, meeting his curious gaze.

"Feel what?"

"The air around her—it's all wrong... How can you keep someone like her around?"

Cowboy slumped back, tilting his hat back thoughtfully. "I don't know what to say, Seifer," he said slowly. "She feels perfectly normal to me. She's been with us for two years now, and she's been a great asset."

I huffed at that. "Doesn't change the fact she's a freak of nature."

"_Now now_," Cowboy said. "Are we all that more natural? We have magical beings lodged in our brains, and we use magic just the same... It's best not to think in terms of 'normal' and 'abnormal' around these parts."

The man had a point, but I couldn't shake my irrational dislike of the young sorceress. It was the same kind of instinctive apprehension that had plagued me in Timber, and there was little I could do to suppress it.

"When can they fix us?" I asked instead, changing the topic.

Cowboy shrugged. "Hard to say. They're still waiting on the last of Squall's readings, and then they'll do some trial tests with Lethe... Tonight at the earliest, I'd say."

I hummed in acknowledgment. "So... Where's the rest of Balamb's finest?" I asked. Last night they'd refused to leave Cupcake and me alone. They had lingered for ages, driving me nearly insane. Cupcake had completely clammed up by the point I'd thrown them all out.

"Selphie and Zell are keeping Squall company," he said with a smile. "Quistis is making a few phone calls, calling off some worried... heads of state."

That cinched it. I clearly wasn't winning any popularity tests, while Cupcake was adored by just about everyone. "_Heads of state_?" I repeated incredulously.

Cowboy nodded. "Squall's an important man," he explained, studying my reaction.

"Important or not, you all need to give him some space," I said evenly. "I don't know what possessed you guys to put him in charge. He's a good fighter, but he hates the spotlight."

"...He does," the man admitted. "But he accepted his duty. We try to be considerate of his needs when we can."

"Tell that to your girlfriend and Chicken," I said with a snort. "They're probably breathing down his neck as we speak."

Cowboy let out a laugh. "I've always guessed you were the possessive type," he said, his choice of words belying the casual tone. "Don't begrudge him his success—his friends."

"What the _fuck_ did you just say?" I glared at the bastard, straightening from my slumped position.

"You've made quite the impression on Squall these past few days," he said, his smile not extending to his eyes. "I don't want to see him hurt."

The fucking _nerve_ of this guy. "I was the one who had his back, Cowboy. Where the fuck were you? ...Oh _right_, you ran away and abandoned his ass."

He regarded me silently, his gaze unwavering. _Fucking mind games_.

"Seems to me you don't like the fact Cupcake prefers my company over yours," I said darkly, needing this conversation to end. "He could be the fucking cleaning lady for all I care, he's got my respect. He's got nothing to fear from me." I looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Now get the hell out of my face."

Cowboy got up and tipped his hat to me in parting, as if no offense had been taken. "You remember those words when they fix you up, Seifer," he said with a languid smile, before walking away across the Quad. "We should have these heart-to-hearts more often!" he yelled over his shoulder as a parting shot.

Unclenching my fists, I tried to calm my temper as I watched the gunslinger's departure. Realizing I had the attention of almost everyone in the Quad, I stared back until they all had the decency to look away.

I cursed, pushing up from the bench. Whatever restful reprieve I'd found in the small park was ruined now. Deciding to follow my empty stomach, I headed for the cafeteria. My mood only worsened when everyone crossing my path gave me a wide berth. They might as well have hung a bell around my neck to announce the approaching leper.

Grabbing a tray in the cafeteria, I joined one of the queues. I rolled my eyes when the person waiting in front of me started to shuffle uncomfortably, no one choosing to line up behind me. This was getting beyond ridiculous, as if I was about to pull out a weapon and start killing randomly.

"You look like you need your favorite today, honey," the cafeteria lady said when it was my turn, catching me off-guard with her kind smile.

"...Yeah, sure."

She yelled at one of the kitchen aids to get out one of the steaks she had hidden in the back, and then turned around again to start searing the meat and heap a royal helping of buttery potatoes and peas on a large plate. "Don't pay them any mind, son," she said motherly. "And don't think I've forgotten about that promise to get me some Mesmerize ivory too! When was it again you said their packs came our way?"

"Uh—"

"It was winter, wasn't it My husband will be so excited!" she said, punctuating her excitement with a spatula.

Placing the food on my tray, I decided to wing it and sent her a flirtatious smile. "Come winter, that ivory is yours, ma'am," I said charmingly, wondering what the hell a Mesmerize was.

She swatted at me sternly with her spatula. "Save the charm for the girls, son," she chided, shooing me away. "Go on, I've got work to do!"

When I walked to a table at the back of the cafeteria, I didn't feel nearly as bothered by the cadets as I had mere moments ago. Not _everyone_ hated me, and I'd needed to know that more than I'd realized. Cutting into the medium-rare steak that was cooked to perfection, I hummed in pleasure at the first proper meal since I'd lost my memory.

When I was about halfway through, a harsh slap to the shoulder nearly had me choking on my food.

"SEIFER," Fujin barked in greeting, sitting down across from me with her own tray.

I grimaced at her idea of affection. "Class over already? No one got themselves killed?" I could only imagine lethal injury at the thought of these inept kids playing around with any kind of projectile weapon.

She shook her head, seemingly disappointed, and stabbed a fork into her sausage. "PESTS."

"No need to castrate lunch there, Eyepatch," I said, resuming my own meal.

"FU," she corrected me again, just as she had last night.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

I cursed when a harsh kick was delivered underneath the table. "Hyne, alright! _Fu_! That better?"

She smiled, which on her looked demonic. "TESTS?"

I shrugged. "Some needles, and a lot of weird machines. There was even a treadmill at some point," I said with distaste. "They gave me a clean bill of health... Well, apart from the amnesia."

"CURE?" she demanded, before biting down on her sausage with a vehemence that made me wince.

"Seems like they're getting close," I explained. "If things go according to plan, I might get my memories back tonight."

"GOOD," Fujin exclaimed with a nod, looking thoughtful. "SQUALL?"

"Cupcake's in there now, doing the tests. Guess he should be finished any minute now."

She shook her head, as if her food suddenly tasted bad. "STRANGE."

I sighed and dropped my fork. "What isit with everyone and Cupcake?" I snapped.

"_CUPCAKE_," she intoned immediately after I'd used the nickname, as if that was the point. "STRANGE!"

I frowned at her implication. "Quistis said I usually call him Leonhart," I said uncertainly. "Is that's what got your panties in a twist? It's just a name, Fu." My sore shin however reminded me the woman seemed to attach importance to correct naming.

Again she shook her head jerkily. "_FRIENDS_. STRANGE."

"What the fuck's wrong with us getting along?" I said defensively. I didn't want to hear the same shit all over again from someone who was supposedly my friend. "Am I dragging down your big-shot commander with my lowly self?!"

Leaning back in her chair, she fixed me with a narrow-eyed glare, almost making me feel like I should apologize for my outburst. _Almost_.

"SQUALL. BAD," she said, seeming frustrated with my inability to interpret her correctly.

"He's not a bad guy, Fu," I disagreed. "Us making it out of that shithole, that's because he had my back."

She shook her head again impatiently. "BAD!" she emphasized, pointing her knife at me. "FOR. YOU."

"Look," I said coldly, meeting her gaze. "I don't know what everyone's problem is. I'm alive because of him, and I saved his ass just as many times." I shoved my tray in front me, my appetite gone. "This might be a _wild_ idea," I said mockingly, getting up from my seat, "but it's possible to make new friends, or lose some old ones for that matter. If I happen to like him, that's _my_ fucking business."

Striding away from the table, I ignored her shouting my name. Maybe next time she spoke to me, she'd think over her one-word replies more carefully.

* * *

Seated on a couch in the nondescript room that had been assigned to me, I was quickly nearing the end of my tolerance. Zell and Selphie had stuck to me all throughout Kadowaki's testing, offering me their "moral support." Even after being told I had no need for it, they'd shrugged off my protests and had turned my morning into the single most exhausting event since waking up in the terrorist base.

Their chattering was incessant, as if they feared I would slip into some kind of coma the moment my mind wandered. I'd been able to keep them relatively happy by offering an occasional hum of acknowledgment. They'd reassured me they didn't want me to feel lonely or troubled. They didn't seem to realize they were part of the problem.

Selphie's personality was incredibly random, her thoughts seeming to follow no set pattern. It was tiring to simply keep track. Zell on the other hand had an obvious fixation on Seifer, his continuous attempts to bring the conversation back to the days I'd spend with the blond not very subtle. It was unlikely Garden kept the man around for his interrogation or undercover skills.

Maybe Quistis had been the smart one, using them as unwitting tools to keep an eye on me at all times. I didn't sense any underhanded intentions from my two jailers in any case. They seemed genuinely concerned for my wellbeing, even if their methods were severely lacking.

Across from me, Zell was having trouble keeping still in his seat. His speculative gaze alerted me to a new line of questioning.

"Sooo... Kadowaki told me Seifer stole your GF, huh?" he said, failing at nonchalance.

I frowned, not having heard anything of the sort. "He didn't steal anything," I said evenly. "Shiva and Griever are with me."

The sudden glint in his eyes warned me I'd finally given him an opening, but he quickly smoothed out the brief flash of victory in his expression.

"You left on that mission with three GFs, Squall," he said, no doubt trying to contain the urge to jump up and shout "I told you so!"

"Three?" I prompted when he let the silence drag on. I was in no mood for dramatic reveals.

"Diablos, man. He took Diablos from you!" he answered with wild gestures. "Big, black demon? Horns, bat-wings and nasty talons?"

I raised an eyebrow. "That GF tried to kill us the moment it got loose," I pointed out. "It mustn't have felt much allegiance to me in the first place."

Zell looked at me with exasperation, inching to the tip of his seat. "You don't get it, Squall! You defeated Diablos with your own sweat and blood—_you_ tamed him! Everyone here knows it's not cool to mess with someone else's GF, man. That asshole _stole_ him from you."

I looked up to meet Zell's gaze. "Seifer saved both of our lives when he defeated that demon. If it takes sweat and blood to earn a GF's respect, then he paid the price," I said firmly, daring him to challenge my statement. "Diablos is his now."

Letting out a loud sigh, the tattooed man slumped back in his seat. "_Fine_," he muttered, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Silence stretched out between us, but the welcome reprieve was interrupted far too soon. Selphie bounded into the room with a slam of the door behind her, her bouncy strut at odds with the pout on her lips.

"I just talked to the on-site recovery team, and I've got some bad news... It doesn't look like they'll be able to reach the lower levels of the underground base," she announced, plopping down next to me with crossed legs. "Too much structural damage, they said—all caved in. They won't be able to retrieve your gunblade."

I hadn't expected anything else, but I nodded in acknowledgment of her effort. The loss of my blade stung, even if I couldn't remembered what it had looked like, but it was a sting I had been getting used to for days now.

"It was a long shot to begin with, I guess," Zell said.

Selphie nodded sadly, but a smile broke through almost immediately. "Well, you can still commission a spanking new gunblade!" she said excitedly. "Or if you still have the old specs, you can get an exact replica made!"

Zell rolled his eyes. "That won't be the same, man. Better to just get a new one," he said, attempting to share an understanding look with me.

Selphie tutted and gave the man a well-aimed kick. "That's up to Squall to decide, silly! Copies aren't all that bad, you know? Or you can make Lion Heart Version Two better than the old one!" She paused and leaned close to me in excitement. "I bet Rinoa could help infuse some neat magic into it!"

I leaned back in the couch, and rubbed at the bridge of my nose. At this point I didn't care about getting a new weapon, when all day long I'd been preoccupied with the memories I might soon reclaim. It was starting to become clear that the picture Seifer had painted about the two of us wasn't as true as I'd come to hope. We weren't partners, and people around here didn't seem to take well to us spending time together. They were keeping something from us, and I was afraid to find out what.

"Squall!"

Selphie's voice interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up with a sigh. "_What_?"

"Rinoa! She can help you with your new gunblade!"

"Who?" I asked dully. I'd met too many new people, and I certainly wasn't going to bother remembering all of their names. Either I got my memory back, or I didn't.

Selphie and Zell both let out a groan.

"You're in for soooo much sucking up after this is over, you know that?" The excitable girl jabbed a finger in my direction. "Rinoa! The sorceress who was helping out at the infirmary? The one who'll fix your memory?"

"Ah...okay," I said slowly. It didn't matter who restored our memories, as long as they managed it.

Selphie slapped a hand to her forehead. "Urgh... This sucks... You're even worse than you used to be!"

"_Selphie_," Zell admonished, sending her a glare. "She just means you've been very quiet all morning. You sure you feel alright?"

I wasn't too sure which was more aggravating—the girl's open annoyance or the man's attempts to smooth things over. "...I'm fine."

"We could go to the cafeteria if you're hungry. Lunch rush is probably over by now," Zell offered, desperate to prolong this unnecessary interaction.

Selphie shot off the couch. "Good idea. I'm starving!"

"I'm not that hungry," I replied, hoping the promise of food would finally lure them away, but no such luck.

"Okay... Well, we can kill some time watching a movie if you like. I've got lots of vids in my room, your pick!" Reading in my expression I had no such intentions, Zell quickly continued, "_Or_ we can do some sparring—I can teach you some of those wrestling moves you've been wanting to learn. I can reserve a room if you don't want an audience. We could even—"

The loud slam of the front door interrupted Zell's unappealing offer, the confident strut of heavy boots announcing a welcome reprieve. "Catch on, Chicken. He's not interested in a date."

Rounding the couch, Seifer shouldered Zell out of his way and set down a tray of food on the coffee table.

"W-What?!" Zell squeaked with wide eyes. "I wasn't asking for a _date_! I just suggested to kill some time!"

"He's just provoking you," I said, a headache starting to make itself known.

Seifer grinned and plopped down next to me, jostling me in the process. "As the man said—but also, you don't stand a chance. He's got actual taste."

"_Seifer_," I said warningly. I really couldn't take much more of this bickering.

He turned and studied me with a quirked eyebrow, his expression sobering. "These kiddies been bothering you?"

I rubbed at my left temple and met his gaze tiredly. "...I'm fine."

"Okay, that's it!" Seifer barked, getting up from the couch to advance on the two wide-eyed SeeDs. "Party's over. It's time for the adults to play now."

"Wait!" Selphie protested, struggling futilely against Seifer's manhandling. "We just want to make him feel at home, what's wrong with that?!"

"Nothing wrong with that, but the second watch has arrived," Seifer said pleasantly. "You stand relieved, Nunchakus."

"_Seifer_," she whined, batting her eyelashes even as he bodily pushed her out the door.

Zell merely sighed and left after sending me one last glance.

When the door finally closed behind them, I let myself slump back in the couch. Seifer leaned against the door and grinned as the voices of the two SeeDs could still be heard.

"I have a girlfriend, you know..."

"I know, I know."

"I wasn't asking Squall out! Why does that asshole have to be so weird!"

"There, there. He was just teasing you! It's what Seifer does!...Let's go get some grub! That'll cheer you right up!"

"Yeah..."

Finally their voices drifted away, and once again it was just Seifer and me. Thank Hyne for the man's intuition and quick actions.

Unfurling his arms, he returned to the seat next to me and pushed the tray in my direction. "I already had lunch at the cafeteria, but I figured you might want to avoid the masses for now."

I quirked an eyebrow, but I should have come to expect the man's considerate moments by now. Leaning forward to smell the steak he had brought me, I hummed in appreciation and grabbed the utensils. No matter what I had told Zell, I _was_ hungry.

"Thanks."

The blond leaned back with his arms behind his head. I could feel his gaze on me as I cut up the meat and started to eat.

"I had to suck up to the cafeteria lady to get another steak, you know," he said. "I owe her, and now you owe me."

I looked up from my plate, swallowing to speak. "I owe you?" I challenged. "How about all the food I provided _you_ with?"

He smirked. "I wouldn't go pitting a steak this great against railway food and energy bars, Cupcake."

Taking another bite of the meat, I shrugged. I wasn't about to start a discussion that would end up with him nabbing my food from me in order to make a point.

"You're no fun," he teased, before the rustling of a plastic bag had me looking up. Triumphantly, Seifer retrieved two large cans of beer and placed them onto the coffee table.

"It's the best I could get in this place, but it'll have to do," he said, opening one of them and pushing it towards me. "It was a promise after all."

I took the can, watching as drops of condensation rolled off its cooled surface onto my hand.

"Bottoms up," the blond said with a smile, tapping his can against mine before taking a healthy swig. "Aaah, that's the stuff!"

Taking a mouthful of the chilled beer as well, I wondered at how easily Seifer could either calm me down or rile me up, depending on what the man was in the mood for. Already I was growing less tense, the headache Selphie and Zell had caused receding to the background.

"There's more where those came from, so don't hold back," he said, bringing his feet up on the coffee table and closing his eyes. "Hyne, everybody's been getting on my nerves today. I needed this."

I hummed in agreement, growing thoughtful.

He cracked open an eye and glanced at me from his reclined position. "They told you about their progress?"

"Yeah... They said maybe tonight."

He nodded and closed his eyes again. "How did the tests go?"

"Fine. Nothing abnormal apart from the obvious."

"Same as me," he said, taking another swig of his beer. "I guess they're pretty sure they can fix us up."

I hadn't missed how his statement lacked his usual confidence.

"Things weren't as we thought," I said, voicing what was on both of our minds.

He huffed. "Tell me about it. These people..." He shot forward from his position and leaned his elbows on his knees. "I'm the lowest of the low in their eyes, and you... They fucking _adore_ you."

Pausing my meal, I nursed the can of beer he'd given me. "Rank is only as important as we allow it to be," I replied firmly, not about to swayed by the opinions of others.

"...You really believe that," Seifer said, meeting my gaze. Breaking into a smirk, he inched closer. "Maybe the great SeeD Commander has been hiding a guilty pleasure among the lower ranks."

The thought had occurred to me. Another possibility was that there had never been anything between us at all, that we'd only ever been boss and subordinate. But that wouldn't explain how I felt around the man, or the strange similarity in our scars. In Seifer's own words, I felt as if I had known him all my life.

Interpreting my silence as agreement, Seifer's smirk grew more lopsided. "I'd love to hear all the dirty thoughts going on in that head of yours."

I rolled my eyes, and resumed my meal. "This is good."

His smirk gentled into a smile as he slumped back with his beer. We sat together in silence while I ate, the atmosphere relaxed. When I finished my plate, I pushed the tray away and emptied the remainder of my beer can. Promptly, Seifer opened another one and handed it to me. He was already on his third.

"Are you trying to get drunk?"

"Nope," he replied, resting his arm on the couch's backrest behind me. "Just trying to wind down... We survived on adrenaline for days, and now—" He gestured at the bland room around us "— we're stuck in _this_ boring shithole. Soon I'll be begging for them to send me back to that prison cell."

I nodded, feeling restless myself. All day long I had suppressed the urge to check behind my back for danger, finding no outlet for the nervous energy that had been building inside of me. I wasn't cut out for idling away my time.

"I'd suggest a spar, but we have no weapons," Seifer said, but then his face lit up with a lecherous grin. "We could always take up Chicken's advice—wrestling _is_ a hard sport to master."

I rolled my eyes, about to retort, but the next moment I found myself pushed back onto the couch, my can of beer knocked to the floor.

"_Seife_—"

My warning was cut short when he flipped me around, my protests muffled by cushions. Within seconds, he had me placed in a headlock, all of his weight pressing down on me. I tried to buck him off, but only managed to wriggle my right arm free and jab my elbow into his stomach. As he recoiled with a grunt, I used the opening to free myself from his hold and turn back around.

Immediately he recaptured me by the wrists, pinning them besides my head. Again I tried to force him off, but he was too heavy. Pulse spiking, I let myself go limp and contemplated butting him in the head. Horseplay or not, I didn't like being constrained like this.

Above me, Seifer let out a pained laugh, his breathing just as labored as mine. He didn't move, his gaze boring into mine intently, and I momentarily forgot to struggle. The light glinted in his eyes, casting them a rich green hue.

"Think you bruised my ribs there, Cupcake," he said, his face close enough for me to feel his breath.

"Let me go," I pleaded, the close touch of our bodies suddenly impossible to ignore. I wondered if he had known this would excite me. Already it was becoming difficult to think straight, thoughts of why this was a bad idea scattering fast.

He delayed his reply and hummed lowly, his voice a deep rumble that sent my heart beating faster. "...You sure about that?" he asked, kicking my legs apart. "I'm right where I want to be."

I swallowed thickly as he settled in between my legs. Watching me closely, he cautiously let go of one of my hands, as if he was releasing a feral animal. Mesmerized, I watched as he slowly carded his fingers through my hair, his fingertips grazing my scalp. I let out a sigh at the pleasurable touch, and inwardly cursed the man for the sudden change in tactics that betrayed just how well he knew me. I could fight violence with violence, but this gentle attack... Damn the bastard for blindsiding me like this.

He kept up the slow massage of my scalp and pushed up, granting me some space. "No clothes need to come off," he offered, his heated gaze following a path down my throat and chest. "Just give me _something_ here, Cupcake." His voice was thick with need, his groin a hard bulge pressing into mine.

Leaning into his touch, I was quickly losing the fight against my own repressed needs. ...Perhaps, if his feelings resembled mine at all, it might simply be reassurance he needed—reassurance we weren't imagining the connection we shared.

Taking a shaky breath, I brushed my lips against his.

His reaction was instantaneous as he closed all distance between us and pressed our bodies together. His one hand roamed over my body hungrily, his tongue pushing at my lips for entry. He growled when I drew him in with equal fervor, the fingers buried in my hair tugging harshly and angling my head for rougher kisses. His mouth tasted of beer instead of the minty toothpaste of our last encounter, but I didn't mind.

It was a powerful sensation—to feel the extent of his desire, conveyed with rough and dominating touches. _I _made him feel this way; this proud and arrogant man pleading for my affections. Such smug thoughts disappeared quickly however, the pace he set escalating faster than I could keep up with. Soon I was lost to pleasurable torture.

Somewhere along the line the exchange had turned into a challenge, our lips battling for supremacy, our hips moving together with perfect synchronicity. Whenever either of us teetered on the edge, we slowed just long enough to ward off climax. It seemed impossible to sustain such madness for long, and I felt a deep need for more. I didn't mind being the first to cave.

Wrapping my legs around his hips, I relished the heated groan he let out when I slipped a hand underneath his pants' waistline and grasped his ass.

"Any more of that, and I'll have to go back on my word," he said hotly, punctuating his warning with a long, hard grind.

I let my head fall back onto the cushions at the sheer pleasure of it, a moan escaping my lips. Given no reprieve, I tightened my fingers against hot skin when he tongued a wet trail down my neck.

Sudden banging on the front door filled the room, and I stilled immediately, biting my bottom lip to keep from making another sound. Above me Seifer closed his eyes and took a long, measured breath through his nose.

"Guys! Open up!" Trepe's voice sounded. "There's no point in locking these doors. I have override authority."

I tried to compose myself and pushed at the blond's chest, but Seifer didn't move. "Fuck off, Trepe!" he yelled, his expression tight with controlled anger.

"I'd rather have you open up yourselves, and spare me the embarrassment of forcing my way in."

"And when exactly did we agree to this no-privacy deal? Your goons have been on our asses all fucking day!"

"Seifer," I hissed, the man's weight starting to feel constricting without arousal to distract me. "Get off."

He glared down at me, before pushing off with a loud curse. "_Fuck_."

As he strode to the front door, I quickly righted myself and pulled down my shirt that had managed to ride up all the way to my armpits. My heart was still hammering against my chest, but luckily my erection was abating quickly at the thought of being walked in on.

"Seifer!" the woman's voice sounded impatiently.

"Coming!" the blond yelled, pausing at the door to cast me an inspecting look. He gestured at my hair, and I quickly dragged a hand through my disheveled bangs to try and flatten them.

He let out an amused snort and shook his head. "That'll have to do."

I cursed the man for looking so utterly unaffected as he turned to face the door. Opening it only halfway, he leaned against the door frame and blocked the entrance.

"What brings you here, Trepe?" he asked mockingly. "Wait, let me guess. You just _had_ to come back to give some more of those lectures and vague warnings you love."

I couldn't see her beyond Seifer's broad back, but her voice told me well enough just how displeased she was.

"I don't need any of your antics, Seifer," she said evenly. "I came to check how you're holding up—"

"Worried I kicked out your guard dogs?" Seifer sneered.

"—and to update you on the progress they've been making at the lab," she finished, unperturbed. "Now let me in. I want to speak to you both."

"Say the magic word, Trepe."

I suppressed a smile at his familiar response to being ordered around. It was nice not to be at the receiving end of his stubbornness for once.

"_Please_," she said tersely after a moment of silence.

"Lemme clear that with the boss first." He glanced over his shoulder with an insufferable grin. "What do you say, Cupcake. Should I send her packing?"

I rolled my eyes and sat a bit straighter. "Let her in, Seifer."

He shrugged and pushed the door all the way open. "Make yourself at home," he said, gesturing her inside.

"Why do you always have to be so difficult," Trepe said with a sigh, stepping into the living area. Behind her, Seifer took up post by the door with crossed arms.

Trepe's eyebrows climbed high when her gaze fell to me and the mess we'd made of the living room.

"Are you drunk?" she asked incredulously.

I frowned. "No."

Circling around the coffee table, she inspected the empty beer cans and picked up the one I'd accidentally dropped on the floor. A large puddle of beer had spread underneath the table. Following her line of sight, I noticed that during our scuffle we'd apparently managed to shift the couch out of place and knock two pillows to the ground as well.

She set the spilled beer can down on the coffee table and faced me again. "You're drunk," she reiterated, a statement instead of a question this time.

"I'm _not_ drunk."

"Zell and Selphie told me you were on edge..." Looking concerned, she sat down next to me and to my horror placed her palm against my forehead. "You're flushed," she said, her brow knotted. "If there's something wrong, you should just come to us, Squall. I've never known you to drink."

Seifer broke into laughter, doing nothing to correct her misunderstanding.

"And you!" she snapped, turning to point at the blond. "I get why you wanted to keep him from me when he's like this, but you can't let him get inebriated like this! We need you two sober for the recovery process."

"_Relax_," he said with an eye roll. "We just wanted to kick back a bit. He'll be right as rain by tonight."

Trepe huffed. "I should've known you started this," she said with a shake of the head. "And where did you get this anyway?" she asked, pointing at the beer. "This is a training center for minors. We don't allow alcohol to be sold here."

"It's alright for these minors to fight and kill on command, but you don't think they can handle a drink?" Seifer said with a snort. "That's rich."

"Can we save the ethics discussion for another time?" she said, restoring the two pillows to their proper place as well. She looked at me and sighed. "I guess an Esuna can always sober you up, if you haven't cleared your head by tonight."

"You said you were here to tell us about their progress," I reminded her tersely.

"I think she came to make sure we didn't jump ship yet," Seifer piped up.

She straightened in the seat next to me and sent him a glare. "Kadowaki wants to try and restore your memories tonight," she said coolly. "Rinoa has made mental contact with Lethe and the GF seems amenable to junctioning. Rinoa thinks she has successfully communicated what we're trying to accomplish, and she says Lethe does not seem opposed."

"Not opposed?" Seifer snorted. "That's not exactly the ringing endorsement I was hoping for, Trepe. You said this GF lost its marbles centuries ago."

The woman nodded. "I'm not going to lie to you. It _is_ a risky procedure, but Rinoa seems confident she can pull it off. She doesn't need to master the GF fully. She only needs to control Lethe long enough to restore your memories, and she does seem immune to Lethe's powers."

"What's the worst case scenario?" I asked, not willing to risk my sanity over a life I couldn't even remember.

Trepe raised her shoulders uncertainly. "That you don't regain your memories, I suppose. Rinoa's the one who runs the biggest risk. She stands to lose a lot more than you two."

"Then why did she agree to do this in the first place?" I had no inclination to be indebted to anyone. By the door, Seifer didn't seem too enthused by the idea either, his expression set in a scowl.

"She... I guess she thinks you're worth the risk," Trepe said with a smile. "She's never shied away from putting herself in harm's way to help others."

Pushing away from the door, Seifer huffed loudly. "No one's that selfless," he said, looking at Trepe sharply. "Everyone's got ulterior motives. _You_ want your precious commander back," he accused with a pointing finger. "And the sorceress...It's no secret what _she _is after."

I frowned, but before I could ask for the blond to explain himself, Trepe had already risen from her seat to face the blond.

"If everyone has ulterior motives, then what are yours, I wonder?" she said coolly.

He grinned broadly at the question, but there was no amusement in his eyes. "Don't break your head over it. Cupcake here already knows what I want, and that's all _you_ need to know."

"Now's not the time to get cryptic, Seifer," Trepe replied with an eyeroll.

"Right, because you and your friends have been _so_ forthcoming."

"We just want to help!" she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "If we have any ulterior motives at all, it's that we want you back—as SeeDs, yes, but also as our friends...our family. I made no secret out of that."

Seifer stared at her long and hard, his arms crossed again. "I'll see how much of a friend you are after tonight."

With a deep calming breath, the woman somehow managed to let him have the last word. Sitting back down, she straightened her skirt and looked my way.

"Kadowaki wants to get things started at 1800," she said evenly. "Just to be on the safe side, you'll have to let us draw your GFs, so that Lethe can't accidentally wipe them from your minds again."

"_What_?!" Seifer boomed angrily.

"It's just a safety precaution—"

"You're deluded if you think we're that stupid!"

Frowning at the renewed arguing, I raised a hand to silence them both. "No one comes near our GFs," I said, my voice brooking no discussion. "Seifer and I will take turns and draw them from each other."

Recovering quickly, Trepe sat back down and nodded. "I suppose that's acceptable."

"That still leaves one of us defenseless, Cupcake," Seifer said gruffly, moving to sit down in the armchair at my other side.

Trepe rolled her eyes and muttered, "Neither of you has ever been _defenseless_."

Ignoring her, I met Seifer's gaze. "...We've come this far."

"_Fine_," he agreed tersely. "But I go first, in case that bitch tries anything."

"Lethe's not a—"

"Wasn't talking about the GF, Trepe," Seifer cut her off. "I trust him, and only him. We'll take turns watching over each other."

A peculiar look entered Trepe's eyes as she looked between us both. "Suit yourselves. Just make sure to be there on time. 1800."

"We'll be there," I assured, hoping she would leave once she had my promise.

Nodding slowly, the woman leaned back in the couch and rubbed at her eyes. It was only now that I noticed she seemed tired, dark circles underlining her eyes.

"You two—you've always been a handful, but this is ridiculous," she said with a suffering sigh. "First you've got me chasing you all over the world, and the moment I find you, I have to defend myself every step of the way." She let out a laugh that didn't seem entirely sane, before continuing her rant. "I've been running a terrorist clean-up operation, on top of combining my duties as a headmistress with that of an absent SeeD Commander. My phone has been ringing non-stop, and now there are tabloid articles on my desk that our PR department has no _hope_ of explaining away."

She shook her head and looked at me. "I don't know how you handle the stress," she admitted softly. "...Hyne, Seifer's right. I _do_ need you back to take over again, but I hope you believe me when I say I also need you back as a friend."

I didn't know what to say to such a heartfelt confession, so I remained silent and looked away. The couch creaked as she got up and walked to the front door. She cast Seifer and me a tired smile, her hand on the door knob. "Don't be late."

When she closed the door behind her, I looked to my left, but Seifer was already out of his armchair.

"Where are you going?" I asked, concerned when I saw his dark expression.

"I need air," the man replied tersely, yanking his jacket from the hanger.

When I didn't move from my seat, uncertain why the man was so agitated, Seifer stopped at the door and gestured at me impatiently. "You coming or not?"

Not in the mood to be saluted again or stared at, I preferred to stay put until the evening. If I'd had any skills at seduction at all, I might even have entertained the idea of luring the blond back to the couch, but he seemed to have forgotten all about our previous activity.

"Don't let these fuckers mess with your head, Cupcake," he said in response to my hesitance. "I don't fucking care about anyone seeing us together, and you shouldn't either."

I frowned at his misunderstanding. "I _don't_ care about that. I just... I don't—"

He rolled his eyes when I failed to explain my irrational dislike of being so... _watched _by everyone, no escape from their expectant gazes. Trepe had to be mistaken, thinking I could be the leader she needed.

"Don't short-circuit that brain, Cupcake," he said, striding back into the room to pull me onto my feet. "Get over yourself and keep me company."

I reluctantly followed him outside, well aware he wouldn't mind manhandling me into the hallway.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he led us out of the wing that held the dorms and personal quarters.

"I discovered a nice spot while I was snooping around," he said with a smirk. "Recess is over, so all the kiddies should be in class. We'll have the place to ourselves."

Curiosity piqued, I followed him to the main circular hall that was the heart of Balamb Garden. As expected, several SeeDs stopped to salute me, but I didn't miss their obvious dismissal of Seifer. The man pretended like he didn't notice, and led me to the elevator at the center of the hall.

When he pressed the button for the first floor, where all the classrooms were located, I frowned but the blond just winked and ushered me out of the elevator.

As he had predicted, there were almost no cadets in the halls at this time, and to my relief our walk went mostly unnoticed. To the far end of a deserted hallway, he hit an inconspicuous looking keypad, a small doorway hissing open at the command.

"Ladies first," he said with a grin, gesturing for me to enter.

Rolling my eyes, I stepped through but quickly forgot my slight annoyance at the spectacular view. We had stepped outside, onto a small balcony that overlooked the ocean. Closing the door behind us, Seifer moved to lean against the railing.

"I saw some kids sneak in here earlier," he explained, fixing his gaze on the vast expanse of water below us. "There are tons of these balconies along the outer walls." He huffed and shook his head. "I have to admit, these losers know how to travel in style. They must be doing something right to afford this kind of ride."

"Not what I expected," I agreed, joining his side.

Silence fell between us as we got lost in the view. It was a beautiful day, the brisk sea breeze tugging at our clothes and hair. Seagulls circled high above in the blue sky, following Garden's trek across the ocean. Far below us, immense rings of machinery or magic glittered in the sun as they orbited around Garden's base. It was almost too beautiful to be a propulsion system, and its steady hum of movement mixed in with the crashing waves and cawing seagulls into a soothing background lull.

Drawing in deep breaths of the briny air, I let myself relax. Glancing next to me, the blond immediately caught my wandering gaze and smiled.

"I thought you might like it," he said, hopping up onto the broad railing, near the wall. Resting his back against the metal plating of Garden's outside hull, he made himself comfortable. When I didn't move, he nodded at the other end of the railing. "Come on, might as well settle in. They won't find us as easily here. I don't know about you, but I'd like some peace and quiet before I let them scramble my brain."

Following suit, I moved into place opposite of Seifer and settled in. Neither of us felt a need for words as we let our minds wander. We'd said everything we'd wanted to say, and nothing more was needed now. We knew what was to come, and we knew we could count on each other. Simply sitting here with him, absolute certainty between us, I felt unafraid.

Seifer had been right. If I'd stayed inside that room, cooped up, I would've gradually succumbed to brooding thoughts and restlessness. Here, out in the open, I could let my doubts drift away with the wind. The boundless ocean was a reminder that freedom was always just a decision away, no matter what happened.

_No prison can hold us against our will._

* * *

**Author's Note:** [12th of May, 2014] Oops, one day past my deadline! I hope you guys can forgive me ^^; I had a busy weekend, but I managed not to be too awfully late with Chapter 7, luckily. Sooo, they've been yanked out of the field and dumped right back into Garden. It makes for a different kind of chapter (less running about, all action-like, and more brooding), so I hope you're still on board :) As always, thanks for all the reviews, reads and favorites. Next chapter next weekend!


	8. When It Rains, It Pours

**~ Chapter Eight - When It Rains, It Pours ~**

* * *

"Is all of this junk necessary?" I heard Seifer ask tersely, the man tugging at the sensors Kadowaki had attached to his naked chest and temples.

Immediately Kadowaki returned to his side and smacked at his fiddling hands. "Leave those alone," she scolded. "If you lose consciousness, I need these to make sure you're okay."

"You better pray that won't happen," he bit out, his shoulders tense.

Kadowaki merely rolled her eyes and shot a glance to where I stood a distance away, leaning against a wall. "Yes, I _know_, you've got your trusted guard on duty," she said soothingly, patting her hand on the examination table. "Hop on, kid. I've been treating your bruises and cuts since you were a little boy. Don't think you can intimidate me now."

I had to hand it to the woman. She didn't react to any of Seifer's provocations. Instead she handled him with stern resolve, the way I imagined a mother would chide an unruly child.

In the back of the infirmary, some of Kadowaki's assistants were busy preparing emergency spells and medication, while others were occupied with monitors and incomprehensible readings. After a brief greeting and tired smile, the raven-haired sorceress had taken place next to the large statue of Lethe, assuming a meditative pose while she held her palm to the grey stone. We'd been told not to disturb her while she created a connection with the imprisoned GF and prepared for the mental exertion to come.

The statue the young woman was seated next to was large. How they'd managed to get the thing all the way inside the infirmary's lab room without risking anyone's memories was beyond me. Perhaps I wasn't the only one with gravity defying magic. Magic wards and perimeters had been set up around the statue, the sorceress the only one allowed within its bounds. It was positioned to face whoever sat on the examination table, a fair distance left between the two for safety.

The statue itself represented a woman, highly stylized and almost abstract looking. The crude, rectangular shape of the statue was still reminiscent of the block of stone it'd been carved from, giving it a primal, ancient appearance. A wide slit represented Lethe's gaping mouth, and the two eyes were mere holes, chiseled deeply into the grey stone. I could _feel_ the Guardian Force staring at me through them.

Looking away from the unsettling statue, I watched from a distance as Kadowaki tested the accuracy of her equipment and took a first set of readings on Seifer for reference.

"Don't worry," Trepe said, moving to stand next to me. "Everyone here knows what they're doing."

I hummed my acknowledgment, not inclined to share my misgivings with her.

"We're all here to support you," she continued. "I know if it was up to you, you'd want us to stay away, but that's now. You might want us here afterwards... when you remember."

I sighed and rubbed at the bridge of my nose, unable to muster the energy to argue with her—or any of the others for that matter. Upon our arrival at the infirmary, Seifer and I had discovered to our displeasure that just about everyone had decided to witness the procedure.

I glanced at the far back of the room, where Fujin stood vigil by the entrance of the lab. She hadn't said a single word in greeting, but she hadn't let Seifer's glower scare her off either. I wondered what had happened between them—just the day before they'd seemed amicable enough.

Unfortunately, the red-eyed woman was the only unobtrusive presence in the room. Everyone else somehow felt entitled to participate in the proceedings. Irvine, Selphie, Zell and Trepe had all been there the moment we'd arrived, and apart from Zell, all of them had tried to instigate friendly banter. Selphie and Irvine had retreated after a slightly too acerbic reply on my part, but they hadn't left.

It seemed that now it was Trepe's turn to wear down my composure.

"In any case, I don't think you have anything to worry about. We've tested the procedure with three of the other amnesiacs, and they responded well."

Kadowaki had mentioned the trial tests, and I wondered if those men had agreed to be test subjects in order to refine a process meant for their commander.

Trepe sighed and clicked her tongue. "Don't pull that face, Squall. This isn't Odine's lab; we didn't harm them in any way. We would've looked for a treatment even if it wasn't for you."

"Odine's lab?"

"Never mind, you'll remember soon enough yourself," she dismissed with a wave. "I'm just saying you don't need to worry about those SeeDs. _Yes_, they went first, but they volunteered. Two of them recovered their memories instantly, no side effects. The third lost consciousness, but is recovering in the infirmary next door. He seems to be piecing his memories together as well, and there don't seem to be any harmful effects as far as Kadowaki can determine."

I nodded in thought. I had seen the man on my way in, and he had seemed well enough, conversing with friends who'd come to visit him at his bedside. The man had even recognized me and had straightened in bed to offer a salute along with his fellow SeeDs. None of them knew I was here for the same treatment the man had just undergone.

"When will they start?" I asked, watching as an assistant took post beside Seifer. She placed a tray with a syringe and assorted elixirs on the table next to her. I'd been assured those were standard procedure for risky healings, nothing more.

"Any moment now," Trepe replied. "They know what to do this time. No trial and error."

I hummed and leaned back against the wall. The prospect of regaining our memories had suddenly become very real, and I found myself reluctant to go through with it. It felt as if I would let a stranger invade my mind to occupy it with foreign thoughts and recollections—a stranger that all these people knew and seemed to trust. Irrational as the thought might be, I wondered if my current self would be erased and replaced, because what were people if not the sum of their life experiences? How different was my current self from the man everyone wanted me to be?

"You're thinking too much again," the blond woman chided. "Put some faith in us."

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow, eliciting an eye roll.

"Okay, _yes_, we did screw things up before, but this time we'll do it right."

"And if we don't, you can always sweep Seifer off his feet and carry him off into the sunset," Zell muttered from where he stood a few feet away.

"Don't you start," Trepe said coolly. Meeting my gaze, she shook her head dismissively. "Don't mind him. This is just like the time Seifer wouldn't give back his toy truck. They never were any good at sharing."

"Hey!" the man snapped, but Selphie and Irvine seemed amused, stifling their laughs.

"If you can't be civil, Zell, you can leave," Trepe said sternly. The tattooed man huffed in reply and fell silent with a sullen expression.

Growing tired of needing things explained to me, I didn't comment on the nonsensical mention of a toy truck. Soon, it wouldn't matter that everyone understood the reference apart from me.

Across the room, an assistant stepped out of the way and restored my view of Seifer. Perhaps sensing my gaze, he looked over and lounged back with a cocky smirk, no doubt thinking he was enticing me with his naked chest. The sensors and wires somewhat ruined the effect.

"Get your ass over here!" he yelled, causing the assistant next to him to flinch and nearly fumble her tray of emergency elixirs. "They're done attaching all their contraptions."

Glad for an excuse to leave my would-be friends, I pushed away from the wall, but Trepe held out a staying hand.

"What?"

"Look," she said, lowering her voice so she couldn't be overheard. "I know you won't take anything I say to heart, but Seifer—he's not..." Faltering, she cleared her throat and started again. "If things don't go the way you expect, we'll still be here for you."

Frowning at the concern in her voice, I pulled back from her touch. "You're right," I deadpanned. "I don't need your advice."

Walking away from Trepe, I heard footsteps behind me and the gentle drawl of the gunslinger as he whispered to the woman. "You know better than to take that personally now, don't you?"

"I know, Irvine. I'm just worried..."

Forcing myself to pay no further attention to their exchange, I stopped in front of Seifer and examined his appearance—he looked like a lab rat.

"What do you think?" he said, raising his arms to invite more intent study. "Good look for me?"

"A pattern is starting to emerge," I baited, suppressing the quirk to my lips.

His grin grew even more lopsided. "Is that right?"

"You do seem to have trouble managing more than half an outfit at a time," I pointed out dryly. He'd escaped a desert wearing only overall bottoms, and a motel wearing only boxers and a flannel shirt. That had to be a record of some kind.

"Don't tell me you didn't like the show, Cupcake," he said with a smirk. "I do my best work half naked."

"_Half_?" I teased, before I could even think to curb the far too flirtatious reply.

Eyes glinting hungrily, Seifer fell silent only briefly. "You're getting a lot better at this, Cupcake," he said lowly, inching closer to the edge of the examination table.

"Commander," Kadowaki's voice sounded from behind me, startling me. Feeling caught, I spun around to face her, but to my relief she was engrossed in her clipboard. "If you haven't already, would you please draw Mr. Almasy's GFs so we can proceed."

Looking at Seifer, I wasn't sure how to go about it. I didn't have any memories of how to draw a GF from another person. When I didn't immediately comply, the doctor's gaze lifted to me.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she pressed, tapping her pen to her clipboard.

Catching on to my plight, Seifer smirked and sat up straight. "Stop over-thinking," he chided. "Just clear your head and you'll feel them. I can sense yours right now."

Doing as instructed, I stopped _trying_ and acted on instinct, as I had at the broadcast station. I held my hands up to steady the draw and wondered at the faint tugging I felt at my mind—an invite. They were there; two magical beings rooted in Seifer's very core, awaiting my touch.

Seifer hissed in surprise when a stream of blue light burst forth from him, and rushed towards me. It felt similar to when Shiva and Griever had joined me, but these two GFs carried something of Seifer with them—a flavor distinct to the arrogant blond. The blue light died until only static electricity lingered, sensitizing my skin and raising the hairs on my arms.

"You haven't forgotten everything, then," Kadowaki said with a soft pat on my shoulder, startling me once again. "Okay, we'll start in one minute, people!" she announced loudly, turning away from us. "If everybody not involved in the procedure would please stand back!"

Stepping back from the examination table, I gave Seifer a curt nod. As before, there was no need for good luck wishes.

Turning my back to him, I returned to my spot by the wall and leaned back in wait. Undeterred, Trepe came to stand next to me again, but for once she kept quiet. Apart from Kadowaki's instructions to her assistants, the room soon fell silent. Everyone's eyes were on Seifer and the sorceress who still sat kneeling next to the statue.

The young woman signaled her readiness at Kadowaki, who in turn faced Seifer. "It'll be less disorienting for you if you close your eyes and try to empty your mind," the doctor instructed.

Seifer nodded and shared one last look with me, before he closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, as if bracing himself for a physical impact.

Hating my lack of control in all of this, I focused on the one thing I could still do. I watched the sorceress closely, ready for the slightest wrong move. Her expression quickly grew tense, and the arm she was holding up to touch the statue started to shake. There was none of the bright light that I'd come to associate with spells and magic, no sudden change in the atmosphere.

The only sign that anything was going on at all was the sorceress' clear exertion, droplets of sweat starting to form on the young woman's brow. Seifer didn't seem nearly as affected as her. His eyebrows were scrunched in concentration and his lips were set in a tight line, but he showed no sign of discomfort.

For long minutes nothing happened. Lethe didn't appear as Diablo had—with smoke and a clap of thunder—nor was she drawn into the sorceress through an ethereal stream of energy. The ancient Guardian Force simply remained where she was, unresponsive and trapped in rock.

When I almost expected Seifer to jump off the examination table and demand an explanation, the sorceress suddenly let out a gasp. Her eyes flew open wide, revealing poisonous, yellow irises that swirled with magic. Her arm jerked towards Lethe, her fingers moving like a puppeteer's. The large statue started to shake and shift in protest, the resulting grind of stone against floor tiles screeching unpleasantly in my ears.

The moment the statue shot forward to break through the magic wards, I pushed away from the wall. A mere heartbeat later, Shiva and Griever were junctioned as the statue shuddered to a halt before Seifer.

Again, Trepe held out a staying hand. "Rinoa's got this," she whispered reassuringly.

I huffed, not moving from my alert position. I didn't like how Seifer hadn't even flinched, his expression unchanged and his eyes still closed. He wasn't as aware as I'd assumed. Something was already happening to him.

When the statue no longer shook, the sorceress straightened with renewed confidence and flexed her fingers in a command only Lethe could understand. Slowly, a wisp of what looked like fog or smoke started to curl out of the statue's mouth. It stretched into a ghost-like strand that searched the air and inched towards the blond man, moving in a way no fog ever could.

I clenched my fists at the eerie sight, hoping I wasn't making a mistake for not interfering. Perhaps the fog was a corporeal manifestation of Seifer's memories, or perhaps it was Lethe herself, unable to leave the statue in any other form.

Seifer let out a gasp when the entity made contact with him. The fog pooled against his chest for a while, as if pushing against a barrier, but then his body yielded and absorbed all of it with one greedy draw.

A machine started beeping to the far right of the room, but Kadowaki didn't seem concerned by any of the machine or sensor readouts. The assistant next to Seifer had yet to touch the syringe and elixirs.

"Mr. Almasy?" Kadowaki prompted gently, walking up to the examination table.

I stood rigidly, my pulse quickening when the man simply remained seated with his eyes closed. I could see the signs of change in him, none of them reassuring. His brow had scrunched into a deep scowl, his hands clenching around the table's edge until his knuckles whitened.

"Mr. Almasy," Kadowaki repeated. "I know you can hear me just fine. I need you to answer a few questions to make sure the procedure was a success before I can discharge you."

Finally the blond opened his eyes, his narrow-eyed gaze fixed on Kadowaki.

"Where did you grow up?" the doctor asked, flashing a small light in his eyes.

"Is that before or after Cid decided to swipe kids from orphanages?" the man sneered, swatting the light away.

I frowned at Seifer's tone, the blond's expression hard. Whatever he remembered, it hadn't put him in the best of moods.

Kadowaki simply nodded at his reply, and poked a finger against a particularly large scar on his chest. "How did you manage to get this one?"

"Pack of Behemoths, and a squad that was worth shit," Seifer answered, starting to pull the sensors off his body. "One of the reasons I'm flying solo these days."

"Yup, that's him, alright," Selphie provided from the sidelines, sounding happy about the appearance of this man I didn't recognize. He seemed... angry, all good humor having fled his expression, and he hadn't looked my way even once.

"No no, let's make sure," Zell said with mock concern. "How many times did you fail the SeeD exam, Seifer? Does that ring any bells?"

"Fuck you too, Dincht," Seifer growled, jumping off the table and grabbing the shirt he'd left on a chair. "Examination's over, doc," he snarled, getting dressed. "I'm outta here."

"Happy to have you back too," Kadowaki said with a sigh. "I still need you to come in tomorrow for a check-up. Don't think you can give me the slip either."

"Whatever will get me back in the field, doc," Seifer said, not an ounce of kindness in his voice.

"We'll be debriefing tomorrow afternoon as well," Trepe said evenly, seeming unsurprised by Seifer's attitude. "I need you to come in at 1400, my office."

The blond walked up to her and smiled that awful mimicry of the smirk I'd grown accustomed to. "Am I in trouble?" he asked, invading her personal space. "I know how much you like bad boys."

"Just be there," Trepe said sternly. "Don't forget your GFs on your way out."

When his gaze finally moved from Trepe to me, I suppressed a flinch at the cold look in his eyes. His lips twisted in barely veiled disgust as he stepped up to me.

"Seifer—"

"I don't want to hear it," he interrupted tersely, drawing Ifrit from me without warning. His eyes flashed red, and the magic connection that had been fascinating before was now tainted with the loathing in his gaze.

"You... forgot Diablos."

"Unlike you, Leonhart, I don't settle for another man's throwbacks," he sneered, turning away from me. The unfamiliar name, spoken so callously, felt like a slap to the face.

Making a beeline for the exit, the man waved Fujin over. The silver-haired woman immediately joined his side, and together they left the lab, neither of them looking back. As I watched his departure, I tried to rationalize what had just happened, but I knew in my bones that Seifer's behavior hadn't been a ruse.

A soft touch against my shoulder drew my gaze away from the lab's exit. Trepe was looking at me with sympathy, warning me just how naked my expression was. Composing myself, I pulled away from her hand.

"You'll understand when you remember yourself," she said gently.

"I _told_ you he's a jackass," Zell muttered, walking up to me with Irvine and Selphie in tow.

"_Zell_," Selphie admonished, waggling a finger at him. "I think maybe Seifer was on to something. You _do_ sound more like a scorned girl than Squall's friend."

Flushing either with embarrassment or anger, the tattooed man started to pace back and forth with raised fists. "A _real_ friend would go to that asshole right now and beat some respect into that smug face of his."

"He didn't do anything wrong," Irvine pointed out calmly. "He's got a sharp tongue, but that's nothing new."

"Nothing wrong?!" Zell yelled, jabbing a finger in my direction. "Look at him!"

"So there were some misunderstandings," Irvine said calmly, looking my way. "There's no reason you can't talk it out later."

"Yeah! But first you need to get better yourself!" Selphie said, pulling at my arm to guide me to the examination table. Feeling numb, I let myself be manhandled into place. All I wanted now was to understand.

"There," the young woman said happily, tugging at my shirt. "Now take this off, so we can gear you up!"

"Oh, _brother_," Zell said with an eye roll. "Yup, _that's_ the kind of friend he needs right now."

Intervening quickly, Irvine took Selphie by the hand and pried her away. "He's lost his memory, darling, not his ability to undress."

"A girl can try," she replied with a wink.

"Everyone back off," Trepe commanded sternly, herding the others a few steps back. "We need to move things along. You can all catch up when this is over."

Standing in front of me, she sighed and looked me in the eye. "I'll have to draw your GFs... Are you okay with that?"

Left without any other options, I managed a nod. Seifer was just as much a stranger to me now as Trepe was. Who I entrusted my GFs to hardly mattered anymore.

Placing a hand on my shoulder, Trepe formed the familiar connection of bright energy, but the contact prolonged and tugged unpleasantly at my mind.

"Let them go, Squall," she said gently, squeezing my shoulder. "You'll get them back the moment we're done here."

I swallowed and did as she requested, my GFs slipping from my grasp. Diablos went without a complaint, but Shiva and Griever struggled and only relented when I reassured them I'd be fine. When the light of the draw died out, the realization that I was utterly alone hit me hard. Moving on auto-pilot, I took off my shirt and allowed the assistant to attach the sensors.

"Everything will be alright," a soft voice said, drawing my gaze up.

It was the sorceress, her face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. She looked ill, but still managed to offer me a smile. I'd forgotten she was even here.

"Seifer is a stubborn and difficult man, but then so are you," she continued, gently placing the last sensor onto my right pectoral. When I didn't answer, she brought up a hand to rub at her neck in embarrassment. "Uhm, I'll try and keep a better hold of Lethe this time."

Noticing the slight tremor in her fingers, I raised an eyebrow. "We can continue tomorrow."

She vehemently shook her head. "No! ...No, I can do it now. I took a rest just now, and Kadowaki gave me an energy booster. Don't worry about me."

I kept my tongue and didn't correct her assumption. It wouldn't do to ruin whatever goodwill she harbored towards me, right before her attempt to meddle with my mind.

"As you saw, it doesn't take that long. We can get plenty of rest when we're done."

I gave an acknowledging hum and looked away, hoping to end the awkward exchange. Next to me, the assistant had returned to stand by with the tray of emergency injections. Almost time then.

From the sideline, my supposed friends expressed their encouragement with nods, waves and thumbs up. Kadowaki stepped into the middle of the room and repeated the same order to keep a safe distance as they proceeded with the treatment.

"This is it," the sorceress said gently, placing her hand firmly against the grey stone of the statue.

Nodding, I closed my eyes and prepared for the onslaught of memories that had ripped a chasm between Seifer and me. I was certain now that the memories would change me, but I wouldn't stay as I was—ignorant and bereft.

For a while I could hear the shuffling of feet and nervous coughs, but then a strange sensation flooded me, drowning out all other sensory input. It was a warm but unnatural touch, painless but unsettling. A faint voice sounded in the distance, as if circling in on me. I realized it had to be Lethe. I couldn't understand the strange language, or even make out the sounds properly, but I knew the words were magical in nature. It felt as if she was reaching for me from a faraway place, pleading me to come closer.

Another presence materialized and shielded me from the siren's call.

/_Wait for her to bring your memories to you. Don't let her trick you._/

Recognizing the disembodied voice as that of the sorceress, I held my ground and waited until the circling warmth became a rush of excruciating heat that pressed against my chest. Aware of what that feeling meant, I fought the urge to reject the strange touch and drew the heat into myself.

For what seemed like an eternity, my entire past slammed back into my mind with unforgiving force. My every action, thought and memory was forced into a broader perspective, into the tapestry that made up my short but troubled life.

How could we have been so wrong.

I took a steadying moment before I opened my eyes, and nodded at my friends to reassure them. Zell and Selphie whooped happily and rushed up to me, while Quistis and Irvine trailed behind.

Zell clapped my shoulder and sent me a beaming smile. "Glad to have you back, man! You have no idea!"

"We definitely have to celebrate!" Selphie agreed excitedly. "You sooo owe us a party, and you know it!"

"How about a poker night?" Zell joined in.

"Dial it down a bit, people," Irvine said with a smile. "Let's give the man some privacy to collect his thoughts." When the duo started to protest, he cast them a pointed look.

"Ah, tomorrow then, I guess," Selphie relented with a pout. "I'll come by your room for breakfast!" she told me happily.

Catching Irvine's stern gaze, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, all right. I'll come by for lunch. But that's as far as I'm willing to compromise!"

"Count me in," Zell agreed. "See you tomorrow, Squall."

Feeling responsible for the amount of stress I'd put the loyal man through, I nodded. "Tomorrow."

His beaming smile returned. "A party might get you back in Selphie's good books, but I'm not letting you off that easy."

"I know," I said, trying to keep my voice light. I looked at Irvine, and grimaced. "I owe you an apology as well."

"For knocking me out twice?" Irvine said with a languid smile. "Guess I should be grateful that's all you did."

"Don't forget about that Stop spell you hit me with," Selphie added. "I'm gonna milk this one for all it's worth."

"You guys do that," Quistis said with a tired smile, waving them towards the exit. "You can make your commander sweat tomorrow."

After another minute of boisterous and excited goodbyes, I got off the examination table and watched Quistis expectantly.

She came up to me, and waited patiently until I had drawn my GFs back from her. The relief of Shiva and Griever was tangible as they reentered my mind and inspected the changes.

/_I remember everything now_./

Griever let out a content growl at my reassurance and quickly settled in, but Shiva was a more sensitive and keen observer than Griever. Her concern touched my mind with a cool flow of ice.

/_I'll be fine_./

The ice goddess huffed, but she let my dishonesty slip.

"I'll be expecting you in my office at 1500 tomorrow, for debriefing and plenty of apologies," Quistis said jokingly, unaware of my internal dialogue with the GFs.

"I'll be there," I promised. "I'd like to get back up to speed as fast as possible, so if you could forward all essential files from the past week to my inbox—"

Quistis raised an incredulous eyebrow and shook her head. "If you think I'll let you bury yourself in paperwork tonight, you're _very_ mistaken. Take the time to sort things out, you hear me?"

Following her line of sight to Rinoa, I sighed and nodded. "See you tomorrow."

"See you, Squall. Glad to have you back."

Waiting until she'd gone, I gathered the courage to turn around and face Rinoa. She met my gaze with a heartfelt smile. Walking up to where she sat on a chair, recovering from the strain of dealing with Lethe, I offered her my hand.

"Oh, Squall," she said with a relieved sigh, letting me pull her to her feet. She stood somewhat unsteadily, so I held her by the arm. She trembled from the exertion, but her eyes were clear and intent.

"You remember now?" she asked quietly, her voice fragile.

I nodded, trying to suppress the wild torrent of emotions that constricted my chest.

"Thank Hyne," she exclaimed, leaning closer. "...I kept a distance from you...I didn't want to confuse you, and I was spending all my energy to find a cure... I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"I...I should've been there for you, but I know you. It took me months to get through to you the first time around... I thought my energy could be better used elsewhere."

I nodded and squeezed her hand. She knew me all too well, unlike the others who'd badgered me the moment I'd arrived at Garden. And I knew for a fact she must've forced Kadowaki into rushing ahead without more trials. "Your plan worked."

"Yeah... It wasn't easy though. Lethe took so much from you, I wasn't sure I'd be able to recover it all..." Her chin trembled, her eyes starting to brim. "The way you looked right through me, as if I wasn't even _there_... I thought..."

"I'm fine now," I reassured, uncomfortable at the sight of her tears.

"For a while, you weren't, Squall," she said softly, before shaking her head. "It's almost been a year now… I guess I'd forgotten just how cold you used to be. I couldn't stand the thought of having to start over."

"I'm sorr—"

"Don't. You don't have anything to apologize for."

I cringed inwardly at her kind words. "I caused you trouble all the same," I said uselessly, wondering how kind she'd be if she knew the truth.

"Nothing I can't handle," she replied with a smile. Wiping her tears away, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and lifted herself onto the tips of her toes to place a sweet kiss on my lips.

Pulling her close to better taste her soft mouth and feel the comforting heat of her body, I tried to ignore how my mind instantly conjured comparisons with a certain tall blond. My throat closed painfully at the memory of Seifer's red eyes, burning with loathing. Snaking an arm around Rinoa's waist, I kissed her more heatedly, willing the arrogant man out of my head.

"_Someone_ missed me," the woman said with a breathy laugh, her eyes shining as she leaned back.

She was beautiful even when she was tired, her hair unkempt from the all-nighters she'd pulled. Registering all the signs of her fatigue, I loosened my hold on her and buried my face in the nape of her neck.

"...Hey, everything's alright," she said softly, carding her hand through my hair. "Let's head back to our place."

I leaned into her hand instinctively, but then I remembered how Seifer had enticed me with the exact same touch. I recoiled from her embrace, my heart hammering in my chest.

"What's wrong?" Rinoa asked uncertainly, her arms falling to her side.

"I—I need some air," I managed, straightening my shoulders. "You go ahead."

"You're going for a walk?"

"Yeah," I said, forcing composure. "I just need some time to think."

She nodded and patted my arm. "I understand... It's not the first time you've got a backlog of memories to work through," she said with a tired smile. "I'll be waiting in our quarters, but I can't guarantee I'll be awake. I'm exhausted."

"Don't wait up. Just get some rest," I said, feeling like a bastard for hoping she'd be asleep when I got back.

"Don't stay out too long, okay? My bed's been lonely enough lately," she said coyly, planting another kiss on my lips before letting go.

I watched numbly as she walked out of the lab, my guilty conscience increasing even further when I only felt relief at her departure.

* * *

"I've been getting some reports about you, Seifer. People seem to think you've been more...pent-up than usual."

"You mean how I feel like kicking everyone's teeth in lately?" I sneered, glaring at my latest probation officer.

The man's expression didn't change as he nodded and jotted down a note on his clipboard. This asshole was fucking worse than the Garden councilors back in the day, but I had to play nice—to a certain extent at least.

"It is understandable you've been affected by the events of last week, but you know we can't overlook any aggressive behavior on your part. I could remind you of the contract you agreed on with Garden's officials—"

"I fucking _know_ the deal we agreed on," I said lowly, the sting of that particular humiliation still fresh in my mind. "A bit of cursing never hurt anyone. If everyone would stay the fuck out of my way, there wouldn't be a problem."

The man cast me a long look, probably thinking he could unsettle me with his silence. The guy must've never had a conversation with the Ice Prince, I thought with a snort.

"The problem is hardly your cursing," he finally said with a disappointed shake of the head. "Your behavior has been increasingly asocial since your return from your last mission. You've been antagonizing your superiors, and you've been terrorizing the cadets. The notes of your previous probation officer suggest this is par for the course. You can't afford any more notations on your record."

I grinned wickedly and leaned in. "You and me both know I'm not some charity case they're giving a second chance. I'm the enemy they want to keep in sight."

"If you truly were our enemy, the commander would have handed you over to the tribunal," the man said coolly, his mask of professionalism cracking. "A dead enemy is much easier to keep track of."

"Unfortunately for you, I'm alive and kicking."

"So you are. The commander seems to think there is still some use for you, so he has rehabilitated you against the wishes of many. It would do you well to keep that in mind."

I huffed at the fucking nerve of the man. As if I could forget being forced to retake the SeeD exams with green rookies and bow down to the likes of this asshole. Everyone here hated my guts, none of them interested in hearing my side of the story. If they expected me to take it with a smile and gratitude, they were fucking mistaken.

"The only reason I'm still here is because I'm not interested in being a civilian," I said, balling my fists and sending the asshole a smile. "I was _born_ to fight. Where else will I get paid to kill, huh? You figure Garden is so noble to take me in, but the truth is that Garden is a nest of mercenaries. They'll even take a cold-blooded killer like me if it brings in the cash."

I relished the man's flinch when I shot forward on my chair, crowding his personal space. "I'm _good_ at what I do."

Masking the tremor in his hands by gripping his clipboard, the man managed to keep his expression composed. "And this kind of behavior is exactly why I called you in. Your particular style of antagonism might not harm anyone physically, but it is highly disruptive. Consider yourself warned."

"Alright," I drawled, standing up from my chair with my hands raised in surrender. "I've been warned." Chuckling, I turned my back to the pathetic wimp of a man and made for the exit. "See you next month."

Slamming the door closed behind me, I suppressed the urge to drive my fist into a wall. Fucking glorified psychologist. They fucking invented the man's job just to lull everyone into a false sense of security. As if a probation officer could keep me in line. I don't know what Prissy Pants had been thinking, but he couldn't really have thought the threat of expulsion meant anything to me.

I knew well enough that the only reason he "rehabilitated" me was out of some misplaced sense of duty or responsibility, and the only reason I bothered coming in at all to these sessions was to keep the crazies away. A lot of people still felt like they had a score to settle. If tattling to a probation officer and seeing me punished kept them pacified, then so be it. When I'd first returned to Garden, I'd had to beat a group of attackers into the infirmary, but nobody had cared I'd been the one ambushed for the sake of petty revenge. Then again, no one had gotten the memo about Ultimecia's mind control either.

Clenching my fists, I maintained a brisk pace on my way to the gym and kept an eye out for potential trouble. The past few months things had finally quieted down, but now... After seeing their precious SeeD Commander associate with the Sorceress' Knight, people were suddenly rethinking their tolerance of me. I'd had the gall to climb out of the gutter and think myself good enough for Squall Fucking Leonhart.

I desperately needed to punch something that wouldn't get me called in again, so the gym it was. Any other day I would've asked Rai or Fu to spar with me, but I didn't trust myself to hold back this time.

The locker room cleared quickly when I arrived. At this hour usually only cadets came in to train, and none of them had the guts to train alongside Ultimecia's Dog. Heading to my locker, I pulled out my training gear and changed with brusque moves. I didn't bother getting out the temporary gunblade—the thing was an embarrassment to Hyperion. Using my fists would be so much more satisfying.

Inside the gym, I took up position in front of a punching bag. I didn't bother with the usual warm-ups or mental exercises designed to empty my mind. In the past year I had used discipline and rigorous exercise as a way to keep my head clear of anger, but now—now I needed to embrace it lest I do something regrettable. Better for the punching bag to take the abuse, then some unwitting asshole getting in my way.

With each blow I landed on the leather bag, my rage grew. I had stopped feeling sorry for myself a long time ago. I had finally resigned myself to staying in the shadows as a solo operative, instead of lashing out at all the bastards out there that thought they were fucking better than me. It had taken months, but I'd finally regained some measure of peace with myself.

Not anymore. One taste of another life, and all of that resignation was gone. For a few unforgettable days I hadn't been a monster, but a _man_—someone who commanded respect and had a future... In my weakest moments, I regretted not taking Leonhart up on his offer to run away and abandon our memories.

The impact of my fists against the bag resounded loudly as I kept up an unforgiving pace of strikes. Sweat started to trickle down my face as I fought to purge the maddening thoughts, but they kept coming, one after the other.

_Leonhart_.

If I wasn't obsessing about the fucking unfairness of my life, I was obsessing about _him_—or rather, my behavior around the bastard. Free and unburdened as my amnesiac self had been, I couldn't recognize myself in that man. It was impossible to accept I was such a fool when stripped of my memories.

My past had been hard, but at least it had matured me. Without those memories to keep me grounded, I was no different from the rookie cadet who had run headlong into disaster, into the arms of a demented sorceress.

To think I had thought the scar I shared with Leonhart symbolized some kind of initiation rite or a pact, when in fact it had been the product of a rivalry bordering on hatred... Those scars had been the result of our clashing personalities—not some culmination of a lame-ass promise we'd made to each other. I cursed at how naive I'd been, thinking the same kind of romantic, idealist thoughts that had landed me in Ultimecia's claws in the first place. _My fucking romantic dream_.

It was pathetic... _I_ had been pathetic. Apparently some deeply rooted part of myself wanted to belong, to be _wanted_. Having Leonhart depend on me and look to me for answers had fed that old need just as much as it had stroked my ego. Without life's harsh lessons, I was still that orphan boy crying out for acceptance. It was the only rationalization I could come up with for how I had behaved around Leonhart—the only rationalization I was willing to accept. The alternative...

My knuckles started to throb as I punched with all my strength and without pause. My breath grew labored and my muscles screamed for rest, but I could not stop.

I didn't care about Leonhart. I _couldn't_. Not anymore. It was a fact of life that you got to know your true friends when you hit rock bottom, and Leonhart wasn't one of them.

After the war, there were only two people on the face of this planet who had my trust. Rai and Fu were the only ones who had followed me into hell, and the only ones who had struggled to get me out of it. I'd been able to hold on to my sanity because of them. Even at her strongest, Ultimecia hadn't managed to isolate me completely.

I didn't blame Leonhart for fighting me. He'd had no choice—his way to Ultimecia had been through me. What I blamed him for was how he hadn't seen, how in the end he'd been no different from all the others demanding my death. We'd never been friends, but I had held the naive belief we understood each other. Instead, Leonhart believed I was capable of killing the very men I had trained with as a child, that I would willingly spearhead an attack against the only place I could call home. In his eyes, I was that kind of man. Years of growing up together, sparring together, hadn't mattered.

Maybe that was why our few days spent together had left such an impact. Not because I'd tasted what it felt like to be respected again, but because it had been Leonhart's respect. Our rivalry had come to a bitter conclusion after the war, with the SeeD Commander coming out on top, and me... hated by all.

For a short time though, we had been equals again. We'd cast off all resentments and old hurts. The result had been perfect teamwork and a chemistry so powerful that I had apparently forgotten I didn't fuck men.

That was the most damning part of everything that had happened—the one thing I couldn't explain away. All my life I'd never been tempted to stick my dick in a guy, not even once. Before I'd become widely known as Ultimecia's Dog, people in Garden knew me as the guy who'd fucked every woman worth a good pounding in this place. I was always on the prowl for the next notch on my bedpost—the large the tits, the better.

_Leonhart_ was nothing like the girls I liked to fuck, all glares and lean muscle. Yet there had been no hesitation at all in my approach when seducing the man, not a shred of doubt as to my sexual orientation. I hadn't suddenly started talking with a lisp, finding all women revolting, but I hadn't wondered at my attraction to the scrawny man either.

Now however... Thinking back on the heated exchanges _I_ had instigated, I felt a confusing mix of disgust and morbid interest. If I had lost my mind, then so had Leonhart. Was the man equally put off by what we'd done, or had the little bastard always liked cock?

Just the thought of sticking my dick in a man's ass had me driving my fist into the punching bag _hard, _the large weight shaking on its chains. There was no way I could deal with another man's junk in the bedroom. What I wanted was a dripping wet woman—someone who knew how to take cock.

It must have been temporary insanity that led me to whore myself out to a guy just for some attention and affection. It was an ugly realization to come to, but at least I could distance myself from the acts committed by a stranger. _I_ was not that man.

Then what kind of man was Leonhart? Even without his memories, the man hadn't been that different from how I knew him to be, only... Once he'd come to trust me, he'd become increasingly... _soft_.

That was the one discrepancy. The man had been as disagreeable and terse as always, with his stubborn moods and sharp tongue, but there had been a side to him I'd never seen before. Perhaps it was the less tight look to his eyes, the softer curve to his lips when he looked at me. Some of that tightly held control and rigidity had melted away.

To associate Leonhart with any softness of character seemed absurd, but he hadn't castrated me for my advances. His reactions hadn't always exactly rung of endorsement, but he hadn't fought me off either. Perhaps his amnesiac self was just as unable to refuse others and disappoint as the great fucking SeeD Commander. How else had the reluctant man ended up as the leader of a mercenary organization, if not for his inability to say no?

It was exactly that kind of obedient behavior that had frustrated me as a child, causing me to constantly push his buttons and lure him into deviant acts that were against the rules. Perhaps that was Leonhart's repressed demon—a need for approval.

Or perhaps the man was bisexual and didn't mind a romp in the sheets with a man. Until last week, I couldn't even have imagined what the brunet would be like in the sack. I'd always pitied Rinoa for switching to the cold, inexperienced man after I dumped her. In my mind Leonhart had always been an aloof, asexual man who was uninterested in women or men alike.

Now I knew better. Once I'd warmed up that icy shell of his, he'd been the _opposite_ of asexual. His lips and skin had been far from cold to the touch, and his tongue had sought out mine with equal enthusiasm. I'd never realized the brunet was capable of it.

Hell, I knew he was a beast on the battlefield—he moved with incredible alacrity and instinct, turning every fight deadly. For a gunblader to fight like that... It was stupid of me to ever have thought the man was out of touch with his body. He writhed in passion just as readily as he pushed his body in the heat of battle.

I doubted such passion could ever see the light of day with Rinoa. Daddy's little princess was far too sheltered and prudish for a truly carnal relationship. The stupid girl was probably leaving all of that potential untapped, preferring cuddles and vanilla _love-making_ instead. And Leonhart, pussy-whipped as he was, probably put up with it.

What a fucking waste.

Or perhaps the brunet wasn't as inexperienced as I'd thought. While I'd been preying on the cadet girls, Leonhart might have been enjoying the other spectrum of pleasure Garden had to offer... Had he been with other men?

It was easy to imagine now—the cold, independent man luring a guy into his bed, only to toss the tool out into the hallway after he was done with him. There was a feminine, yet dark kind of quality to the brunet that might be enticing to some men, so I didn't doubt he'd have plenty of suitors.

His seduction would probably be of the straightforward kind. I could imagine Leonhart making a blunt offer for sex with that deadpan tone of his—no strings attached. His pick of the day would follow eagerly to whatever locale the commander had decided on, ready to obey any and all orders.

Leonhart wouldn't speak a word beyond the initial offer however, pushing his prey down and straddling over them. With that businesslike efficiency of his, he'd get straight to the point and strip off both of their pants. Those intense grey-blue eyes would be the only thing betraying his need as he lowered himself onto a thick cock and began to ride him slowly. As the commander forgot himself, that delicate mouth would slacken, giving way to heated moans. It would be about _his_ pleasure, the brunet driving down his hips with increasingly faster, sensual moves—

I snapped from my thoughts when the punching bag flew off its chains and landed a good distance farther away on the ground. I was reeling, the pain in my hands registering only now. I looked down at my bloodied knuckles and swallowed deeply. My heart was beating a rapid pulse in my throat.

"Wow," a voice said from behind me. "...I should've checked up on you sooner"

Swiveling around on my feet, I glared at Trepe as she stood up from a bench and walked up to me. I didn't want anyone to see me now, and the thought that the woman had been watching all this time... Had I betrayed anything in my expression?

"It seemed like you were immersed in your training, so I didn't want to interrupt." She cocked her head, her gaze landing on my hands. "Seifer, you're bleeding!"

Grasping my hands, she murmured a Cure spell and coaxed the magic into my abused flesh. I yanked back from her hold and sighed as the dull throb faded along with my bursting headache, depriving me of the distraction that pain could offer.

"If I needed a nurse, I would've gone to the infirmary, Trepe," I said lowly, crossing my arms.

She huffed at that. "I doubt you'd know what's good for you," she said with a shake of the head. "I just got a call from your probation officer. I don't like what he had to say."

Opening the folder she'd held under her arm, she got out a file and held it in front of me. "This is his latest report, filed along with all the complaints he received about you."

"You going to tell me to fix my attitude problem again?" I sneered. "That's getting old fast, Trepe."

"I've come to find out _why_ you've got an attitude problem," she said calmly. "You were doing well before your last mission. What changed?"

"None of your fucking business," I said. "Stay the fuck out of my way."

"It's obvious that it has something to do with what happened," she plowed on. "I don't want to see you ruining things for yourself again. Whatever it is that's bothering you, it's not worth acting out like this."

"Look," I bit out, jabbing a finger in her direction. "I didn't want the counseling session from that asshole in the probation office, and I sure as hell don't want one from you. Since when do you give a _shit_ about what happens to me?"

"I've always cared about you, even if you don't make it easy for me." She managed the lie with a straight face, planting her hands on her hips as if she was addressing a rowdy child. "I worry about you. Squall hasn't been his old self either, he's been very—"

"Ah," I interrupted her with a dark smile. "That sounds more like the truth. Your dear commander is out of sorts, so you come to me to assign blame." She huffed in indignation, no doubt ready to fire away arguments, but I continued before she could pipe up.

"Here's a newsflash, Trepe. I don't give a rat's ass about your precious commander. In fact, if I hear _one_ more word about that prissy bastard, I'll personally beat the living shit out of the asshole that brings it up."

Trepe closed her gaping mouth and raised a curious eyebrow. "...Hm."

"_What_?"

"You just answered my question for me," she said smugly. "The reason you're upset— it's Squall, isn't it?"

"Did you not _hear_ what I just said?" I hissed.

Trepe's expression tightened with annoyance. "I heard you just fine," she said brusquely. "Both you and Squall seem to have forgotten that I was the one left to deal with the mess you made. Frankly, I don't care what your issue is with Squall," she continued, opening the folder to retrieve some kind of paper clipping, "but I suggest you fix it quickly. Like it or not, the two of you caught the public's eye."

She held out the clipping to me, the tabloid headline jumping out at me.

**"SeeD Commander and War Criminal Cause Public Outcry"**

Below it was a blurry picture, most likely taken with a cell phone camera. It showed Leonhart and me on the train to Timber, with the brunet staring absentmindedly to the side. The damning part was how I'd sidled up to the man, my head resting against his shoulder. We looked _way_ too fucking cozy for people who were supposed to be boss and subordinate.

"_Fucking_ teenagers," I muttered, my anger reaching a scalding boil.

"As you can imagine, we hadn't expected this kind of PR nightmare when you guys went running off together," Trepe said evenly, taking back the clipping. "Several concerned parties have contacted us to demand an explanation. They are worried the leash we're keeping you on isn't nearly short enough, and they've accused Squall of shielding you from the international tribunal for personal reasons. They're questioning his personal life and his judgment as a leader."

"It's a fucking _photo_!" I snapped. "I get that associating with me smeared his shiny reputation, but I couldn't fucking care less."

"You better start caring," Trepe replied. "The wilder tabloid theories that you two are knocking boots should die out soon enough, but that doesn't change the fact you've attracted the attention of people who'd rather see you in a less privileged position."

"I don't see how my position is privileged here, Trepe."

The woman sighed and shook her head. "This photo suggests you are in favor with the SeeD Commander, one of the most powerful men in the world. That is not what the world's nations had in mind when relinquishing Ultimecia's knight to Garden's authority. You escaped the tribunal with your hide intact, and now they see you off gallivanting with Squall... It unnerves them, to say the least. The opinion of your probation officer might be more important than ever."

I huffed and pushed past the woman. "My reputation was shot a long time ago. People made up their mind about me before they ever met me. Don't expect me to feel sorry for Leonhart."

"That's it?" she intoned, following closely after me. "For a while there you two seemed closer than anyone else and now I'm supposed to believe you don't care?"

"If it's public support you want, have Leonhart denounce me at a press conference. Have him do a nude centerfold in that tabloid of yours, for all I care. Just leave me the fuck alone."

"Seifer!"

I didn't stop my stride towards the men's locker room at her call. I was done with her badly veiled attempts to get me on "Team Leonhart."

"Next time you're looking for me, Trepe, it better be with a mission."

Slamming the door in her face, I was relieved to finally be rid of her. Confirming I was alone in the locker room, I sat down on the bench near my locker and buried my head in my hands. Once again I'd been reminded of just how forfeit my life was, should I step on the wrong toes. I lived only because I'd been _allowed_ to, by the good graces of the fucking Great SeeD Commander.

* * *

"I know Rinoa set you up to this," I said, keeping my gaze fixed on the horizon. It was late afternoon, the barley fields waving in the temperate breeze—a beautiful day regardless of my inner turmoil.

Next to me, Irvine shifted in his reclined position. "Do you, now?" he replied, his voice not betraying the least bit of remorse.

I sighed and looked down at the man. He was lounging comfortably on the grass, his arms folded beneath his head. Tipping up his hat, he revealed his inquisitive gaze.

"You all try to _handle_ me when you think something's up," I pointed out. "Quistis wants to talk; Zell wants me to vent by boxing or wrestling; Selphie gets the entire gang together to distract me; and _you_ take me drinking," I accused, gesturing at the small flask of whiskey tucked away in the gunslinger's pocket.

The man grinned and pushed up into a seated position. "Guilty as charged," he drawled. "But what does that have to do with Rinoa?"

"Rinoa likes to set me up on dates," I said, disgruntled. "Three days ago it was my father, and today it's this."

Irvine smiled. "At what point did you realize?"

"The moment Rinoa called it a _boys day out_," I replied, remembering how she'd ushered me out the door as if I was going on a play date instead of a mission.

All day long Zell, Irvine and I had been mopping up a monster infestation in Balamb's countryside, cruising between farms and forests on the flashiest motorcycles Zell could've requisitioned from Garden's garage depot. The handful of monster nests hardly called for A rank operatives, and my two squad members hadn't been too pressed for urgency, taking breaks every other hour to enjoy the outdoors and drink on the job.

"_Ah_, but then why did you come, if you were on to us all along?" Irvine said, pulling out his flask of whiskey and taking a small swig.

I shrugged and turned my gaze back to the tranquil landscape. I wasn't about to admit that I'd jumped on the opportunity to be away from Rinoa for a day, at the same time avoiding any chance encounters with Seifer.

The day hadn't panned out badly at all, in spite of my initial misgivings. Irvine and Zell knew me better than I gave them credit for, leaving me to my silences whenever I needed them, and offering me a beer and quiet conversation when my thoughts were drawing me in too deeply. The change from Garden's crowded hallways to the grassy plains and dust roads was more than welcome as well. Even though I had only been away from my job for a small time, I was having trouble adjusting to the spotlight of being a commander.

When Irvine offered me his flask, I took a good mouthful of the alcohol and relished the burn down my throat.

"Too bad we finished those beers already, huh?" Irvine said, letting my lack of a reply slide.

I hummed my agreement. I'd never been one to drink away my problems, but the slight buzz of a few beers had been a pleasant distraction.

"Quistis will start to think I have a drinking problem," I said with a huff, handing back the flask.

"She mentioned something along those lines," he replied with a smile. He was kind enough not to bring up how Quistis had found me drinking together with Seifer. Indulging in beer had been the least of our transgressions that day.

"...Rinoa's just worried," the gunslinger said with a shrug. "We can all see you're struggling with something."

I frowned, and tapped my replacement gunblade against the ground. Its balance was off, the hilt and weight all wrong. I'd have to wait another two weeks before the smith was ready with my commission for a new, proper gunblade.

"Look," Irvine said with a sigh when it became clear I wouldn't reply. "The others think you're having trouble coping with your memories. You didn't like regaining them the first time around either, and this time you have a whole bunch of extra memories about a war."

I faced the man and quirked an eyebrow. That was an assumption I could try and deal with at least.

"I think they've got it wrong," Irvine continued, his gaze intent. "I think they've gotten so used to painting Seifer as the unlikeable bully, they can't even see some people might miss him—that _you_ miss him."

My blood chilled at his words, but the moment I glared at the man, I knew I had betrayed myself.

"No need to get defensive," the gunslinger said with a smile, his hands raised. "I can't say Seifer is the nicest guy around, but he's got his charms. He was your sparring partner for years. That has to count for something."

Noticing I'd been gripping the handle of my gunblade with increasing force, I frowned and loosened my hold on the weapon. "He _was_ my sparring partner."

"That's right," Irvine agreed. "He was also the only other kid who didn't get adopted, the only one who was there throughout your childhood and training." The man kept his voice calm, as if he was stating facts instead of painful truths. "I don't think you ever coped with the role he played in the war. I think what happened last week forced you to take a long, hard look at the _real_ Seifer. He carries his mask well, just like you."

"His _hatred_ isn't a mask," I snapped.

Irvine shrugged. "He has reason to be resentful. We haven't exactly cut him any slack. Maybe we should start."

"What changed your mind about him?" I asked, wanting to catch the man at his own hypocrisy. "_You_ opposed when I signed his release papers and SeeD contract."

"We've all made mistakes," Irvine said, his gaze thoughtful. "But I saw how he was without his memories. He treated you well... He was impossible to the rest of us, but not... not inherently_ bad_. If anything, he was _protective _of you. If his resentment and our prejudice is what keeps him from being a friend, then we owe it to him to make an effort."

"Don't project your guilty conscience onto me."

Irvine laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. "Oh, I've vowed to make my amends, but this isn't about me, Squall."

"This isn't about _anything_. You can stop now. I'll tell Rinoa you tried."

The man paused for a moment, watching me keenly. "You said his hatred isn't a mask... Is that what you're afraid of? That he hates you?"

My fists clenched until my knuckles whitened. How could I be so transparent? Irvine was hitting too close to home, and I feared how much the man had truly guessed.

"Do you hate him?"

I sighed at the question, my shoulders sagging. "...I don't."

"Well then, let me tell you, he doesn't hate you either."

I snorted. "Whatever you think you saw before we regained our memories... None of that counts."

"But you want it to," the man pointed out, unaware of how precisely he'd named my problem. "I don't blame you. You guys make one hell of a team. There has to be respect and chemistry for two people to work together that flawlessly." He rubbed his head where I had knocked him out. "I'm sure you two would ace the aptitude and compatibility tests for mission partners."

"_Thanks_," I said bitterly.

"I'm not trying to rub salt in the wound, Squall. I'm saying you should do something about it."

I shook my head with a huff. "I tried talking to him the day after the lab. He told me to stay the hell away from him." The blond's hands had clenched and shaken, as if the man had been keeping himself from attacking me. I hadn't tried again after that.

"So?" Irvine said, lounging back down on the grass, signaling the topic was close to an end. "The man's stubborn. He cozied up to you for a few days, and now his pride can't live it down. Just give him some time."

I fell silent at the useless advice and let the gunslinger doze off under the sun. Swiping the man's whiskey flask, I took another swig. If only the situation were as simple as regaining Seifer as a mere sparring partner.

I let out a strained breath and thought back to the past few days. My behavior around Rinoa had been erratic, no doubt confusing the girl. One moment I would avoid her and bury myself in work or training. The next moment I would seek her out to instigate kisses and passionate touches, only to abort halfway out of guilt or inappropriate thoughts of Seifer.

I couldn't go on this way. I missed the rapport I'd shared with Seifer. I missed his foul cursing, his outrageous arrogance, and his uncanny ability to read between the lines. At night, in my dreams, I missed his touch and scent. It was slowly driving me crazy to wake up from those fevered visions with Rinoa curled up in sleep beside me.

It wasn't rational. I hadn't forgotten how Seifer had left Garden to follow a sorceress, nor had I forgotten about his bullying during our time as cadets. We'd never been friends. I'd felt the touch of Hyperion many times more than the touch of his lips, yet I could only focus on the latter.

I'd already considered that the man I was infatuated with was gone, and that my feelings for him couldn't possibly apply to the current Seifer—an unkind man who was completely different from the partner I had freed from the terrorist base. Perhaps some prolonged exposure to the current Seifer was all I'd need to resolve my delusions. But even if Seifer would actually allow me in his proximity, I doubted the strategy would work. The few times I'd caught a glance of the man in the distance, my heart had responded with a quickening pulse.

All of it brought home to me just how much my feelings for Rinoa paled in comparison. Had I ever felt this lost around her—this desperate? My lips curled in distaste at my hopeless thoughts. I'd always considered myself to be a rational, levelheaded man, but it seemed that in the end I was no different from anyone else... Right now I'd do anything for some of the coldheartedness that had earned me nicknames such as Ice Prince and Shiva's Lover.

"Hey guys!" Zell yelled, running down the road that led towards our resting spot. "I scouted out the next farm, and the workers there said there's another nest up north." Our mission map crumpled in his hand, he skidded to a halt before us and wiped at the sweat on his brow.

Irvine cursed at the road gravel Zell had pelted us with and sat up to dust off his hat. "This is supposed to be an easy-going mission, remember? What's with the running contest?"

"What, and let you guys have all the fun by yourselves?" the martial artist said with a grin, plucking the small whiskey flask from my hand to pour the last of it into his mouth. "Think again, suckers! Let's get this show on the road!"

Irvine got up with a sigh and shook his head. "Am I the only one who doesn't particularly enjoy killing monsters?"

"What are you talking about!" Zell exclaimed happily, clapping me on the shoulder as I got up. "What's greater than working up a sweat and fighting off monsters with your bare hands?"

"I can think of a few things," Irvine said, sending Zell and me a conspiratorial wink.

Zell rolled his eyes as he led us to where we'd parked our bikes. "You know, how about from here on out _you_ get to be the errand boy and do all the scouting? Squall and I can handle the _real_ work just fine."

"Maybe," Irvine said, grinning lewdly. "There must be a few untouched gems out here; beautiful farm daughters and milk maids."

Zell snorted loudly. "You're lucky my best buddy code keeps me from telling Selphie."

"By all means, tell her if you want. She's just as bad," Irvine said with a shrug. "We've agreed we can look all we want, as long as we keep our hands to ourselves. My kind of woman."

"Ugh... I don't get you two," Zell replied.

Shaking my head, I was happy enough to let their ramblings distract me as long as they didn't involve me. The two men continued to argue about the merits and drawbacks of an open relationship as we readied our bikes and secured our weapons safely.

"Hey, Squall," Zell said, his tone alerting me he was trying to bring me in as a referee. "What do you think? Would you be fine with Rinoa checking out the ass of every hot guy in sight? I mean, where do you draw the line?"

Maintaining a pointed silence, I climbed onto my bike and revved the engine.

"Oh fine, be impartial all you like, but I know you're on my side," Zell said with a knowing smirk as he pulled up next to me. "You're like the most loyal guy I know." He jabbed an accusing finger at Irvine. "Ass-checking and chest-staring don't belong in a proper relationship!"

I winced inwardly at Zell's perception of me—a loyal friend and faithful lover. Tuning out the conversation that had ceased to be a welcome distraction, I pressed the gas release and shot down the road, leaving them to follow after me.

For the remainder of the day, I tried to lose myself in the mission, but the job was too routine and unchallenging. I was certain Zell and Irvine had caught on to my worsened mood, but neither of them commented on it, nor did they protest when I suggested heading farther out than our mission's objective stated, rather than returning to Garden when evening approached.

We ventured outside the populated areas and fields, and our last few fights of the day were all the more tough for it—no stray packs that had grown indolent off farmer's produce and livestock, but real monsters that had been hardened by harsh survival conditions. It was the only time the demands of battle had pushed all thoughts of Rinoa and Seifer from my mind.

It was dark by the time we neared Garden's gates, the sun already having set hours ago. Irvine signaled us to stop and cast me an assessing glance.

"I don't know about you guys, but I could use a drink. How about we turn around and head into town? Grab a couple of beers ?" he suggested, offering me an out.

Not catching on to my reluctance to return, Zell cocked his head. "Really? Normally I'd be all for, but it's been a long day, man. Aren't you beat?"

"Just thought we could end the night in style."

"It's alright, Irvine," I said with a small shake of the head. "Thanks for today."

"You sure? We don't have to call it a night yet, if you don't want to," the gunslinger said, no longer bothering to mask his ploy.

"What are you guys talking about?" Zell asked, his brow furrowed. "Why don't you wanna go back?"

"No such thing," I reassured the confused man. "Rinoa's waiting for me."

"Ah!" the blond said with an understanding grin. "I hear you loud and clear! My own lovely lady is probably waiting up for me as well. Can't leaving them hanging too long, huh?"

"You mean, you better head inside before she chews you out?" Irvine said with a laugh. "You're so whipped."

"Hey! She's just concerned, that's all," Zell protested. "What with Squall's track record, she's not exactly jumping for joy whenever I'm on his squad. Highest risk of injury, and all that."

"He's top rank and commander for a reason," Irvine said with an eye roll. "Maybe your librarian princess is too sheltered to date a _real_ SeeD."

I snorted. "A real SeeD who clears out Funguar and Geezard infestations."

Irvine chuckled and nodded. "Perhaps today wasn't our most legendary day."

"Hey, we did nail a Torama pack in the end!" Zell said with a grin.

"We sure did," Irvine said, patting my shoulder. "Come on, let's head inside. We've kept our ladies waiting long enough."

I nodded and revved the engine, ready to head back in.

We dropped off our bikes at the garage and said our goodbyes in the elevator as each got off at their respective floor. Getting off last, I steeled myself as I walked through the empty hallway. The day had been a necessary reprieve from my responsibilities and from the two people that muddled my thoughts. During the ride back I'd made up my mind. I finally knew what to do.

* * *

**Author's Note:** [20th of May, 2014] Hey everyone! I'm a bit late again, this time because my internet managed to die on me in a spectacular, needing-some-serious-repairs way ^^; But what is the first thing I did once the repair man left? Why, post this chapter, of course. Hope you enjoyed it, and as always, thanks for the reviews, favorites, alerts, and whatnot. Keep 'em coming :) Next week, next chapter.


	9. Down Memory Lane

**~ Chapter Nine - Down Memory Lane ~**

* * *

Eyeing the sunrise in the rear-view mirror, I felt my weariness all the more keenly. More than forty-eight hours had passed since the last time I'd had any sleep, but then lack of sleep was pretty consistent with most SeeD missions I'd been on. Tightening my hold on the steering wheel, I tried to appease my foul mood with visions of the bed that was awaiting me at Balamb Garden.

"So... What's the verdict?" I asked harshly, breaking a two-hour silence that had leaned towards strained rather than comfortable.

The cowboy startled from his catnap and lifted up that ridiculous hat of his to glance at me. "...Verdict?"

"I know you've got orders to run to that asshole probation officer the moment we arrive," I said tersely, keeping my eyes on the road. "So what's the verdict?"

The gunslinger straightened up from his slouch and glanced at me. "I came clean about why I'm here, and I get attitude in return?" he asked with mock hurt.

"Quit the act, Kinneas," I bit out roughly. "Your report. What will it say."

"What act?" the man drawled, stretching in his seat. "I volunteered to get to know you better. You should count yourself lucky I talked Trepe out of partnering you up with the probation officer's pick."

When I gave no reply, my knuckles whitening around the steering wheel, the man yielded with a sigh.

"I see no reason why you shouldn't be trusted with solo missions again," he said, his tone sobering. "Your probation officer will hear nothing but praise from me."

I snorted, offended at the necessity of this charade. "I don't need you or that fossil to tell me I've been a _good boy_."

"Unfortunately you do," the cowboy said. "You've been provoking people and strutting the halls, when you should have been laying low. You could've done a lot worse than me as a chaperone on your first mission out again."

"_Lay low_?" I hissed. "I've been _laying low_ for the past half year, and look where it got me."

"There's only so much we can do when it comes to politics," the man said with a shrug. "Garden holding a hand over your head has come at a price for us all, but we're doing what we can."

"What fucking price have _you_ paid?!"

Unfazed, he smiled languidly. "For starters, I've spent three days on a stakeout with you as my only company, while I _could_ have been spending some quality time with my girlfriend. It has been a test of my patience, let me tell you that much."

Slumping back in his seat, he looked my way. "Garden has taken a lot of flak over you—_Squall_ has taken a lot of flak."

I squared my jaw at the name I wanted to hear least of all. "I never asked anything of him."

"No," the gunslinger agreed. "But whatever you need, he makes it happen anyway. You've probably been too busy burying your head in the sand to have heard or even care, but he gave a press conference yesterday."

"I don't care what Mr. Fucking Perfect had to say," I sneered, wondering whether Quistis had taken my advice to have Leonhart denounce me in public.

"You should," Kinneas said. "I wish we could've caught the actual airing, but I've read the outlines. The plan was to remind everyone of Garden's authority and of the release contract the tribunal signed to extradite you to us. If he went ahead as planned, he'll basically have told everyone to fuck off."

Grinning, the man tipped his hat back and adopted a deadpan tone of voice, no doubt in poor imitation of Leonhart. "Under no circumstances are the commander's personal life, or the pardon granted to Seifer Almasy up for discussion. Almasy has been reintegrated as a valuable SeeD operative, and probation will only continue as a sign of goodwill from the SeeD Commander to the world's nations...Hmm, what else... Ah! The presence of an external probation officer is a violation of SeeD autonomy and confidentiality, and won't be tolerated indefinitely."

His rant at an end, the cowboy quirked an eyebrow and regarded me. "How's that for you?"

"...Why are you telling me this now?" I demanded, my scowl deepening.

The man shrugged. "I wasn't sure yet whether you deserved Squall going out of his way like that." His voice grew sterner when he continued. "I warned you, that day in the Quad. At the very least, he deserves respect from you."

When I didn't reply, he sighed and looked away. "Squall's not the only one, by the way. Quistis has been working overtime to smooth over everyone's ruffled feathers. She's been doing some major lobbying. If you resent her for sticking you with a chaperone, consider that it was the only compromise she could make instead of letting an independent investigator into Garden."

"...I didn't know."

"You didn't know, because you've been refusing to have a civil conversation with any of us since you got your memories back," the gunslinger pointed out. "I know things aren't ideal right now, but if you would just work with us—put up a show for the probation officer and lay low—we could get the press of our backs a lot faster."

I huffed. "... Bad PR, huh."

"If bad PR was all we cared about, we wouldn't have bothered keeping you around."

"I _fucking_ get it, alright?!" I snapped, speeding along the deserted road. "I should throw myself in the fucking dirt and bow down in gratitude! I should be kissing Leonhart's ass and thank Hyne for the privilege!"

"None of the above," the gunslinger replied, his voice harsh for the first time since our mission had started. "You don't need to like us, but you _are_ living and working with us. Life's dealt us all some shitty cards, but it's time to get over it."

I slammed down the brakes, uncaring of how the bastard flew forward in his seat. Taking a few deep breaths, I purposefully kept my hands on the wheel lest I punch the man or throw him out of the car.

"...Some _shitty cards_?" I repeated coldly. "My mind was twisted and _used_. I was reduced to a fucking puppet, and now the world has the gall to hate me for it. Everyone who was supposed to care betrayed me." I turned to stare at the man. "And you tell me I should _get over it_?"

Nursing the sore knee he had bumped into the dashboard, Kinneas sighed and met my gaze. "Look...I lost my temper," he said apologetically. "I just mean that it's time for us all to put the past behind us."

I shook my head and barked out a dark laugh. Would there ever come an end to all the fucking assholes telling me how to live my life?

"I'm trying," the gunslinger said, ignoring my laughter. "I told Squall I would make amends, so here I am. I'm _trying_." He paused, and I could feel his intent gaze on me. "Can you honestly say you are trying your best?"

Falling silent, I was too weary to continue the conversation, but the gunslinger didn't stop.

"You've been back with us for a year now, but always on the sidelines, never involved. You're not really _there._ In your head, you're still fighting that war."

"_Shut your fucking mouth_."

"It's time for you to become a _real_ part of Garden again," the man plowed on. "Either that, or you leave and start over somewhere else. You can't go on the way you are now."

I had no reply for the words that rang true, and I felt my anger dissipating into numbness. I was fucking tired of fighting the same fight over and over. Turning the key in the ignition, I brought the engine to life again.

A soft groan sounded from behind us and snapped me from my dark thoughts. "He's coming to."

"On it," Kinneas replied calmly, returning to the professional distance that had dominated most of our interactions the past three days. Preparing a second dose of tranquillizer with the syringe kit in the glove compartment, he leaned around the front seat and planted the needle in our captive's neck none too gently.

"_Bastard_," he muttered, checking the man's bonds while waiting for the drug to take effect. "Not sure what kind of mission I hate the most, but taking in crooks is up there at the top."

"Fucking police work," I cursed in agreement. It had taken three whole days of stakeouts, tracking underlings and beating the right answers out of the weakest link before we'd ferreted out the ringleader of a human trafficking crew.

Kinneas sighed and lounged back into his seat. "Guess we're a last resort, when all orthodox methods have failed."

"Meaning SeeDs usually come with collateral damage," I said with a wry grin. Having carte blanche to stir shit up and break some limbs on missions was why I hadn't left Garden yet.

"Nobody will miss that warehouse," the gunslinger said with a huff. "Never knew you could burn buildings down _that_ quickly though."

"Smoke 'em out," I said simply. "It rarely fails, and I need to let Ifrit out every once and a while anyway."

Kinneas shook his head and chuckled. "You and Squall—you're both ruthless. No wonder we didn't stand a chance."

Clenching my jaw, I refrained from commenting and let the comparison slide. I couldn't just fly off the handle every time someone mentioned Leonhart. Turning on the radio for some distracting background noise, I restored the wall of silence between us.

By the time we reached Balamb a few hours later, the cowboy had dozed off again as the sky had cleared into a bright autumn day. Two SeeDs were waiting at the gates to take our captive into custody, wielding batons and eyes glowing with magic. I gladly hauled the fat bastard's ass out of the car, heedless of the man's head hitting against the doorframe on his way out. _Human trafficking_... even kids and women hadn't been off-limits to this asshole.

The man whimpered and seemed almost relieved to stumble towards his guard detail. I might have landed a few more hits on the prick than was strictly necessary to gain his cooperation.

The two guards gave me a perfunctory nod—the absolute minimum of courtesy. _Assholes_. I outranked these fucking runts, but I hadn't received a salute since my command of the Galbadian army. Back then, soldiers used to grovel at the mere sight of me.

My dark thoughts were interrupted by Raijin's approach from the gates, sparing the two guards a firm dressing-down. Kinneas waved at me from the car window. "Go ahead. I'll return the car."

"Wish I could say it's been a pleasure, Kinneas," I said, taking my gunblade case from him.

The gunslinger just tipped his hat at me. "We'll talk again," he said, before driving towards Garden's garage.

Running a tired hand through my hair, I shook my head and walked up to the gates to meet Rai.

"Yo!" the burly man said with a big smile, waving. "Heard you were coming in, and I've got some time to kill, man!"

"I'm dead on my feet, Rai," I groaned, jostled by the clap he gave to my shoulder in greeting.

"Bet you haven't eaten yet, though," the man said with a knowing grin. As I strode through the gates, he fell in step with me. "Fu will meet us at your place with brunch. It's been ages since we've all been off duty at the same time, ya know?"

I smiled at the man's enthusiasm, realizing I needed some _real_ companionship just as much as I needed sleep. "Alright. But after, I'm getting some shut-eye."

"So, how did the mission go?" Rai asked, digging his hands into his pockets. "I mean, you weren't too happy being stuck with Kinneas, ya know?"

"He was fine," I dismissed with a sigh. I almost wished the man had been more insufferable, justifying my dislike of him. It was ridiculous to write people off for not being enough like Leonhart, but working a mission with Kinneas had made the chemistry between Leonhart and me all the more apparent. "... Fucking meddlesome, but so is everyone else in this dump."

"Too right," Rai agreed readily. "That's why we have to stick together, ya know? Some breakfast will do ya good, man."

Grinning, I nodded and pulled him into a headlock. Horseplay with Rai only ever worked because the bulldozer of a man allowed it—in deference to my ego probably, and I loved the idiot all the more for it.

"So what have you been up to while I was away? Bored out of your mind, no doubt."

The man yelped, before twisting out of my hold and grinning sheepishly. "Well, Fu and I didn't have any missions or classes yesterday—"

I rolled my eyes at the sight of the grown man blushing like a school girl. "She introduce you to bondage yet?" I said with a lewd grin. "Some BDSM?"

"I—No, she didn't!" the man stammered, slugging me in the shoulder.

I barked out a laugh. "I swear, you're too innocent for a freak like Fu," I said with a grin. "Or maybe that's exactly what appeals to her inner sadist."

"You done laughing at my sex life?" Rai said sulkily as we entered the elevator to the SeeD quarters.

"_Never_. You two are so mismatched, it's hilarious."

"Opposites attract, ya know?" he said sagely. "We complement each other."

I chuckled. "Like a hammer and nail. You're a braver man than I am, Rai."

Rai just grinned foolishly as we got out at my floor. "If it's Fu, I can take any abuse, ya know? That's love for ya."

Entering my key code to open the automated door, I stepped into my meager quarters. "Make anyone other than me your best man, and I'll kill you."

Laughing nervously, Rai trailed behind me. "Oh man, _no_, if I proposed to her now, she'd kill me first, ya know? It's way too early for anything like that, but it's not like I didn't think about it, ya know? She's a class act, and I'll never do any better—"

Catching my barely hidden smirk, he closed the door behind us with a sulk. "You were joking."

I set my gunblade case to the side and turned to face the smitten man. "What can I say," I teased, plopping down on the bed-turned-couch. "You're an easy target when I get you going about Fu."

"Laugh all you want," Rai said, sitting down on the desk chair across from me. "One day you'll be in the same boat as me."

"I doubt it," I said with a snort. "All I need from a partner is a good roll in the hay. As a matter of fact, Louise will be back in town soon. I'm planning to make her stay a memorable one."

"Louise?"

"You know her. The brunet from G-Garden. She was here two months ago, on some training program thing."

"You move fast, ya know?" the man said with a shake of the head.

"Faster than you think." I grinned and lounged back. "She isn't half bad in the sack." My grin grew more lopsided. "She reapplied for another B-Garden exchange real fucking quick. Probably got all hot-and-bothered without my cock—"

"Hey, no details, man," Rai groaned, pulling a face. "We agreed on that."

"FOOD," Fu's voice boomed from the hallway, effectively disrupting all conversation as usual.

I waved at Rai, gesturing for him to open the door. Already the familiarity of my own room and the company were mellowing me out, the bed beneath me seducing me to get more comfortable. _Hyne_, I was tired.

"Did you get the waffles?" Rai asked as he opened the door, receiving a punch to the chest in reply.

"LAZY!" she accused, pushing past him into the room.

"Hey, I told you, I had to go get Seifer, ya know?"

She let her cold, one-eyed stare look me over, before she dumped the fully laden tray onto my bed table. "LAZY. BOTH!"

"Yeah, yeah," I said with an eye roll, nudging away a bun to get at the waffles. "Did you forget that foul mood of yours already after that sweep mission? I _earned_ my moment of laziness."

She huffed and sat down next to me, her back ramrod straight. "HARD?"

"Mostly boring," I dismissed, biting into the rich, buttery waffle. "Ah, now this is the stuff."

Accepting my refusal to talk about the mission any further, she nodded and held out a cup of coffee.

"No thanks. I'd like to sleep after this."

"You never hand _me _any coffee," Rai sulked, promptly glared at in return. "What? I'm your boyfriend, aren't I? I'm just saying, breakfast in bed or something would make up for your..."

"WHAT?" Fu demanded when Rai trailed off, the man realizing he'd started down a dangerous path.

"... for all the times you're off on missions, ya know?" he amended.

I threw my head back in laughter at the poor cover-up. _Whipped men_, every single one of them as pathetic as the next. "Keep the domestic disputes for when I'm not in the room, won't you?"

"RAGE!" Fu barked, curling her nose in disgust at being associated with anything "domestic."

I chuckled. "You know, I don't even know how you two get round to sex in the first place, when all you do is fight."

Rai promptly blushed again, but Fu eyed me with a hard stare.

"FOREPLAY," she said, her lips quirking evilly.

I stopped chewing my mouthful of waffle at the bad, bad visuals that put in my head. "Hyne, I fold, alright?!" I mumbled, quickly swallowing down my food. "You had your revenge. Now let's move on to another topic."

Seemingly recovered, Rai grinned and shook his head. "Why should we shut up? We never hear the end of your conquests either, ya know?" He leaned back in his chair and assumed a ponderous expression. "It's true though, ain't it? A good fight does spice things up a lo—"

I interrupted by snatching the bagel from the man's hand. "That's enough, thank you. Go gang up on someone else with anecdotes from your sex life."

"We'll shut up, if we don't have to hear about what you get up to with Louise," the bastard offered. He'd been spending too much time with Fu; she was already corrupting him.

"LOUISE?"

"One of his latest conquests," Rai explained. "Another transfer."

Fu raised an eyebrow and studied me. "BORING."

I snorted at the expected comment. She'd never had a very high opinion of the type of woman I chose to take to bed, but then she also didn't understand the appeal of a nice set of tits.

"I'm not joining the debate team with them, Fu. I don't need them to be interesting beyond the tricks they know in bed."

"FIGHT. IMPORTANT."

"You want me to fight with women instead of fucking them?" I asked, frowning. "How's _that_ going to improve things?"

Her brow crinkled deeply, as it usually did when she wasn't getting her point across. Huffing, she kicked Rai in the shin to come to her aid.

"I think I get what she means. You only fight with people you think are important, ya know?"

"YES!" Fu barked, jabbing a victorious finger at me.

I rolled my eyes and pointed out the flaw in their reasoning. "I pick plenty of fights, usually with people that get in my fucking way."

Rai shook his head. "No. You shout some insult at them, intimidate them, push 'em away, and that's it, ya know? You just do what you think will make 'em leave."

Fu nodded, sitting back comfortably now that her boy toy could do the interpreting for her.

"When you _really_ fight with someone, when you can't leave 'em be and get all worked up for real—that's when they're important to you," Rai continued. "I bet if you'd find the woman of your life, you'd be up in her shit all the time, ya know? Arguing instead of smooth talking. The more important someone becomes to you, the more annoyed you get. Remember the first time I helped you to the infirmary? I thought you were gonna torch my head right off."

I opened and closed my mouth at the astute insight I would never have expected from Rai. I looked to Fu, and only saw agreement in that small, evil smile of hers.

"LOUISE. BORING," she said smugly.

Recovering, I leaned back against the wall and folded my arms behind my head. "What works for you doesn't necessarily work for me, guys. I prefer my women on the easy and compliant side. Don't need anyone bitching at me as foreplay."

But as I said it, I couldn't convince myself of the lie. They were right—I never wasted more than an insult and a threat on the inconsequential types, or some inane flirting on a potential fuck. Fu and Rai... They'd had to take a lot of shit from me when I'd first realized they mattered to me. Nothing got my defenses up like vulnerability.

People like Leonhart's do-gooder gang got on my nerves on a whole other level, but I suppose in a way they mattered as well, sharing a childhood and all that. Sometimes it was as if even after all this time, I still felt like I had something to prove to them—that I wasn't the loser they thought I was.

And then there was the man himself. Fighting and arguing had always been a heady, exciting experience when it had been Leonhart... In that motel room—one moment I'd been shouting at him, and the next I'd had him pushed up on a table, my hands all over him. Somehow I knew that if the brunet had been easy and compliant, he would never have enticed me. For as long as I could remember, we'd always been fighting. How important would Fu reckon he was to me?

Louise was a fucking chore in comparison. Besides, I'd had her pegged pretty soon into our flirting game. She was one of those women who wanted a bad boy—the badder the better, and you couldn't get much badder than a war criminal. Whether they were looking to heal wounded souls, or whether they were in it just for the kick, I wasn't sure, but their type was a big part of why I was still getting laid at all. Apparently it took a special kind of kink and recklessness to take me for a spin these days. Any self-respecting woman had learned to give me a wide berth. Not Louise though, and boring or not, she was interesting enough when she had her lips around my cock.

The imagined flash of Leonhart doing just that, his eyes intent on mine, didn't even take me by surprise anymore. Fucking subconscious getting out of control.

"Yo, I think you really need some sleep after all."

I looked up to see Rai waving a hand in front of me. "Better get that get power nap now, huh?" he said with a grin.

I huffed and dragged a hand through my hair. "_Fuck_, I'm tired. Listening to your psychoanalysis didn't help."

"Just rest up, man. We'll stand guard," Rai said. He got out his deck of Triple Triad and flicked the cards. "Fu and I have a wager going on, ya know."

Nodding, Fu got off the bed and sat across Rai. "CHAKRAM. ADAMANTINE."

"If you think you can win," Rai said, dealing the cards. "Uhh, I think we better not say what I get when you lose."

Groaning, I stretched out on the bed. "Hyne, spare me." I chuckled when Fu flipped me the finger, never taking her eyes of her cards.

"When you wake up, we thought maybe we could hit town, ya know?" Rai suggested.

"The Golden Clam _again_?" I said with a sigh. The dingy pub was the only nearby place you could get a decent draft beer, and coincidentally the only place that would have me. "Fucking Balamb. I can't wait until they fly this bucket somewhere more interesting."

"You never know," Rai said without much hope. "Now shut up and sleep."

Grinning, I obeyed and closed my eyes.

Even the kinks in my back and neck couldn't keep me from sleep for long. Rai's whispered mutters, the rustle of cards and the occasional stunted speech from Fu created a pleasant background lull, evoking a rare moment of belonging. I let the sounds of their game guide me to sleep, and soon I was gone.

I slept deeply, drifting along a jumble of images that failed to coalesce into a single narrative. I was trafficking women and little kids, grinning as I cornered them for the daily headcount, but mist swallowed them up before I could cash in. I hurried into shady alleys, afraid I would be caught for my crime, invisible pursuers on my trail with bright eyes glowing in the dark. I ran for what seemed like ages. At one point, Louise appeared and smiled that smile of hers, pulling me inside her room. Greedy for touch, I pushed her down. Ignoring her yellow eyes and ashen skin, I buried my nose in her short brown hair and breathed in deeply. My heart ached at the scent.

_Get off me_.

I pushed up a bit and grinned at the sight beneath me. Leonhart's face was flushed, glistening with sweat and blood. He glared at me with Shiva's eyes.

_I _said_ get off me_.

I leaned in to capture him, but somehow he'd slipped away and out of reach. He looked at me scornfully, his chin thrust up in defiance.

"_So what_ if I like to fight with you," I accused. "Don't let it get to your head, Cupcake."

"Is Seifer here?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

I felt like punching his face, screaming, "I'm right _fucking_ here!"

Someone ordered the man to be quiet, causing Leonhart's mirage to vanish. Muted conversation stirred my thoughts into awareness.

"Want us to pass a message?"

"Tell him... If he wants to spar..."

"SPEAK."

"20:00. The usual place."

I lay absolutely still as the door swished shut, cutting off the sound of Leonhart's receding footsteps.

_Fucking bastard_—showing up in my dreams, on my _doorstep_.

I took deep breaths, suppressing the urge to chase after him and remind him of his restraining order with my fists. The rage I felt was unsettling.

"Oh, you're awake," Rai said, drawing my gaze to him. "You heard all that?"

I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. "I heard."

"So... You going?"

"If I'd ever fight him again, I'd kill him," I said evenly, standing up to get my jacket. "So no."

"What do you think he wants?"

"Fuck if I care," I bit out, daring them to push any further. Holding open the door, I looked their way. "Are we blowing this month's pay, or what?"

Fu stared at me long and hard, before she snorted and walked past me into the hallway. "TAB. YOURS."

Rai scratched his head. "Yeah, I'll be needing my pay for Fu's new Chakram."

My mandatory chuckle sounded hollow, but if Rai and Fu noticed, they feigned ignorance. "Don't make bets you can't win, Rai," I said, following them into the hallway. "Next night out in Deling, _you'll_ be paying the rounds."

"Man, I don't know why I hang out with you guys," the burly man complained, restoring the status quo of easy banter.

I joked and mocked and slapped shoulders as we made our way to the Golden Clam, but the more I tried to push Leonhart's invitation from my mind, the more my head filled with thoughts of violent payback.

* * *

I stood in front of the Training Center's gates, already having retraced my steps there and back three times.

Hours had passed since the time Leonhart had indicated, and I held little hope the man would still be there. He was the type to let others wait on him—not the other way around. Ever the composed asshole.

I held my temporary gunblade tightly, my fingers flexing around its unfamiliar hilt. Hyperion would've been better, but in the end even my fists would do.

I wasn't utterly wasted, but the large beers served at the Golden Clam hadn't exactly sharpened my senses and judgment either. Maybe my hands would be less steady, my footing sloppy. I might not be able to stop my blade in time before it cleaved off an arm or head.

The promise of violence filled me with a sick kind of glee, appealing to every dark, ugly thought I'd had about Leonhart these past days. All that filled my head were extreme actions that I'd probably regret in the morning.

I didn't care about his reasons. Mine were all that mattered.

Bolstering my resolve, I stepped through the gates. Certain he had meant the secluded clearing to the far south of the training grounds, I walked the familiar path that had always held the promise of either satisfaction or frustration in the past —depending on whether I won or lost the fight. This time, I'd win.

A handful of the more dedicated cadets lingered in the front area in spite of the late hour, hacking away at the low level critters infesting the beginner's grounds. I chuckled when one of them got lashed in the face by a Grat—his own damn fault for gawking at me.

No one was active in the higher levels, but even if there had been, the thick bushes and wild growth would conceal our hidden arena. Privacy had never been an issue once we'd learned how to take down and get past the Rexes.

As I keyed open the access gate to the last grounds, my momentum was abruptly ruined by the sound of voices not too far away. I'd been prepared for monsters, not a set of SeeDs to chase out.

"I mean, I get it's not easy, but... You're way too hung up on everything. Why can't people around here move on and let go."

It was Cowboy—just my fucking luck. Slipping inside, I stayed behind the rock formation that kept the gunslinger and his buddy out of sight.

"...You're different."

I stiffened at the sound of Leonhart's voice, my heartbeat spiking. Why the fuck was he still here, with _Cowboy_?

"Really? How am I different? Laid-back country-boy who doesn't know his way around city folk?"

"That's not what I meant."

"What then?"

"Your memories. They're normal."

"Wish I was catching your drift there, Commander."

"You started junctioning late, and only as a last resort. You don't need the neural drugs...Your mind is yours alone."

What the _fuck_ were they on about? And since when had Leonhart become so fucking chatty? Pressing my back against the rock formation between me and them, I resisted the desire to break up their cozy exchange and send Cowboy to the infirmary. _Undeserving asshole_. This was supposed to be about me and Leonhart.

"Just the way I like it. Tap 'em in more than once, and I can just feel them leeching on. Gives me the creeps."

"I practically grew up with Shiva in my head. Selphie, Quistis, Zell, ... Seifer, they're the same."

I don't know what aggravated me more: the hesitation before he spoke my name, or the fact that my name had any effect on me at all when it passed his lips.

"You saying GFs _changed_ you? That's why I'm different?" Kinneas said, sounding unconvinced. "I get that they took your memories, but you got them back, didn't you?"

"They're not the same once GFs have held them. They're different."

"_How_?"

"Forgetting...It's is a natural part of memory. Memories aren't _facts_, they change selectively with each recollection. They fade. They're _supposed_ to fade in the places we need them to, and we embellish them in other places, until they fit in a story of our lives that we can live with."

"Yours aren't like that?"

"Ever since I started junctioning Shiva regularly. The neural drugs prevent the memory loss, but nothing more. GFs still stay in the part of our mind that regulates memory. Any memory they touch, they keep perfectly."

"Hmm... I think Selphie told me something like that. Like how she can remember a lot more than she should, a lot more vividly too. Just thought she had... What's it called? Eidetic memory or something?"

Leonhart hummed in agreement. "It's the GFs. Perfect storage—one of the ways they amplify our abilities."

"Okay, say I take your word for it. Long term GF usage, combined with neural drugs, leads to pretty damned accurate memories... What's your point, Squall."

"Forgive and forget, that's what they say... Only it's the other way around. If you can't forget... If every bad memory is stored perfectly, how do you move on from it? How do you forgive?"

I stood stunned. I'd never heard Leonhart talk like this, never received more than a stunted reply or an angry scowl. To finally hear those inner broodings of his voiced out loud was startling, and to identify with them even more so. Kinneas' interjections were a jarring reminder I wasn't the one trusted with Leonhart's confidence.

"I don't know. Selphie doesn't seem to have any trouble with that."

"She still has nightmares about Trabia Garden. Do you? You've lost just as many friends as her."

"I'd like to believe I'm strong, but I guess you're about to tell me I'm not..."

"Did you accept your loss, or did you forget their faces?"

A long silence sounded before Cowboy let out a deep sigh. "... Remind me to never try and pick your brain again... I don't like your payback style."

"You asked why others have a hard time letting go. I answered."

"So you're blaming your problems on this... superior recollection?"

"It's a lot harder to forgive without the benefit of forgetting."

"Well... I suppose that's true forgiveness then. No half-assed 'under the rug' business," Kinneas said firmly. "Who are you having trouble forgiving?"

When no reply came, I hoped Leonhart had finally reached the end of his trust in Kinneas. A world where the prissy commander talked openly about his feelings was a mind fuck beyond belief.

But then Leonhart decided to speak.

"Myself... There's a lot I tried to forget after the war."

"I thought you said you couldn't?"

"I tried to get Shiva to take them back."

"... The memories she'd taken in the first place?"

"And more."

Kinneas' voice took on an urgent tone. "Please tell me you gave that up. You have no idea what you put us through with that Lethe crap. Amnesia can't be the answer. I mean—there's good stuff for every bad thing too, right? Isn't that worth holding on to?"

This time Leonhart didn't answer.

"Look, I can understand the appeal of a clean slate, but I would've hoped that since we've all become friends, the good is starting to outweigh the bad."

"It's not about you or the others."

"Hard not to take it a little bit personal, Squall."

"... It's ironic. Lethe finally gave me what Shiva didn't want to."

"Yeah, and look how that turned out for you," Kinneas said with a snort.

"I think I was happy."

The statement was outrageous, causing my throat to go dry.

"Please tell me you're kidding. You had to break out from a terrorist cell; you were attacked; you were stuck with Seifer—"

"I felt free... Unburdened."

"Lethe is under lock and key, and you _know_ I can't let you go to her again."

"...I'm not planning to," Leonhart answered after a pause. "I've just been thinking."

Kinneas huffed. "Yeah, I can tell."

"Seifer... I think it's the same for him. Stuck in the past."

I narrowed my eyes at the return of my name. I didn't want to be the subject of his hypothesizing, and I sure as hell didn't need his pity. The only thing wrong with me was Leonhart's fucking existence.

"I actually told him something along those lines this morning," Kinneas said pensively. "I tried to talk to him, but I'm afraid he's not interested in changing the status quo."

Leonhart remained silent, and I could easily imagine his scrutinizing glare when Kinneas scrambled to continue and explain.

"He wasn't inclined to clear the air, Squall. Maybe he'll come around after a while, but... I'm not sure. There's only so much we can do." A pause was followed with the rustle of a coat, the Cowboy likely gesturing at their surroundings. "He's not around, is he? He stood you up."

Whatever talkative mood had overcome Leonhart, it was over now. The man refused to be baited, his stubborn silence signaling the end of the conversation. If it had been me, this would've only been the start, but Kinneas was a fucking quitter.

"Look... Let's get back to the dorms," the gunslinger suggested, giving up on salvaging the mood. "It's getting late. Selphie's out with friends, so you can crash at my place if you want."

"Go ahead," Leonhart deadpanned. "I'll come by later."

"I thought your all-night slaying fests were a thing of the past… Or are you still hoping he'll show?"

A long, suffering sigh sounded. "_Go_, Irvine."

"Fine. Suit yourself. My door's always open."

Either I moved too slowly, or I was too caught up in Irvine's suggestion for a fucking sleepover, but by the time I realized I needed to get out of sight, it was too late. _Fucking alcohol_.

"Where do you think you're going."

Coming to a stop, I turned away from the exit gate and faced the gunslinger.

"I _thought_ I was here for a spar—not this sentimental bullshit. Think I'll sit this one out, Cowboy."

His gaze dropped to my gunblade, his eyes narrowing when I failed to mask the tremor in my clenching fist. He stepped up to me, his nose curling when he caught my scent.

"Get over there _now_," he ordered, pointing back to where Leonhart had now walked into view, "and the probation officer won't hear a thing about how you entered the training grounds _drunk_ and armed."

My vision blurred with anger and drink, I shot forward and yanked the asshole off his feet by his coat.

"_Seifer_!"

I didn't look up at Leonhart's shout, enjoying the apprehension in Cowboy's eyes far too much.

"Unjunction now!"

I laughed and dropped the gunslinger to the ground. The man patted at his singeing coat, where my touch had scorched the fabric. Smoke wafted upwards from the newly burned hole.

Leonhart stepped in between us, his eyes silver and frigid. "Irvine. _Go_."

"You can't expect me to—"

"He's _drunk_. I'm not in danger."

I smirked and let my gaze glow red. "You sure about that?"

Behind Leonhart, Kinneas had somehow managed to save his coat from burning up completely and stood to his feet. His mouth was a steely line when he looked between us.

"Figure this shit out, Squall. It's not fair on the rest of us." With that gem of wisdom, the asshole finally walked through the gate and out of sight.

"Just you and me now, Leonhart."

Now that he no longer had to protect his little girlfriend, Leonhart's stance eased. His indifference was fucking insulting.

"Where's your blade."

"In my quarters."

"Then why the hell did you call me out here, Leonhart," I sneered, moving in close enough to loom over the man. "That hard up for a beating? Fists will do just fine."

He didn't flinch and looked up at me defiantly—the exact same imagery my dream had conjured.

"I don't want to fight you."

I barked out a harsh laugh. "Well, this is your unlucky day, Leonhart. You _knew_ what you were getting yourself into the moment you knocked on my door."

Unafraid to meet my gaze, he shook his head. "We need to talk."

"Nothing to talk about."

He stared at me with that unfazed expression, the way he always did when he thought I was being an ass. Then he turned his back to me in a foolish show of trust and walked towards the clearing that had once been our regular spot.

I almost took advantage of the man's stupidity, but it wouldn't have been right. If I defeated him, it would be in a fair fight. I'd had enough backstabbing to last me a lifetime.

Hoisting the now useless gunblade onto my shoulder, I found myself following after the brunet. The bastard knew how to bait me with that cool disregard of his. In the past, our instructors had always reprimanded me for instigating our altercations, but they hadn't realized Leonhart was just as good a provoker. Where I resorted to insults and mockery, he could rile me up with a single look.

Even now, as he walked ahead of me, he seemed unflappable. Cool as a fucking icicle. But I knew better.

"What's this about, Leonhart," I sneered, sauntering slowly to adjust for the alcohol levels in my blood. Hyne would laugh his ass off if I tripped over a branch now of all times. Leonhart halted in the middle of the clearing and faced me silently.

"Here I thought this was a party for two, but you went ahead and invited Cowboy as well," I mocked, moving closer until I loomed over him. "Threesomes more your thing?"

I frowned when he took a step back. He hadn't backed away from me since he first bested me during a spar. "What the _fuck_ is your problem, Leonhart?" I spat. "I think I was clear enough. You stay away from me. I stay away from you."

The man regarded me with a pained expression, as if being in my mere presence left a bad taste. For a long time he didn't speak, leaving me to glare at him whilst I tried not to visibly sway.

"After this, I'll stay away," he finally said, his voice even.

"_Good_. Make it quick, Leonhart. I don't have all fucking night."

"...Do you want to leave?"

I stared at him, incredulous. For a moment I thought he was making the same offer he had when we'd been on the brink of a decision to return to Garden or not—an offer to run away together.

He frowned at my lack of a reply. "Do you want to stay at Garden or not?" he asked, firmer this time.

I inwardly cursed my foolish thoughts. "Another ultimatum? You're barking up the wrong fucking tree, Leonhart."

"No ultimatums," Leonhart said with a shake of the head. "I want to understand."

"You don't _need_ to understand me. You just need to stay the fuck out of my way," I hissed, jabbing my finger in his direction. "Don't you _dare_ pretend you give two shits about me."

Something hardened in Leonhart's expression as he pushed my hand aside. "Do you hate me?"

"_What_?"

"Have you always hated me, or just since the war?"

"Fuck, Leonhart, I signed up for a fight, not a fucking heart-to-heart—"

"_Answer me_," he interrupted.

The tightness to his eyes and lips betrayed how invested he was in my answer. All at once, I realized the time we'd spent together without our memories had cut both ways. I wasn't the only one affected. For a moment I contemplated spitting out the most hurtful reply I could come up with, but his steely gaze forced the truth out of me.

"I hated you right after the war," I said coldly. "Now I just don't trust you."

"But you did once?"

This was all too fucking weird. Maybe I drank too much and passed out in a ditch somewhere, dreaming up a world where Leonhart cared.

"You don't get to turn back time, Leonhart. What happened, happened," I muttered, bringing my gunblade down to the ground for support.

Leonhart sighed and took a step closer. "We can't change the past, but... maybe Lethe showed us we can trust each other again."

I let out a dark laugh before I could keep the reaction in check. "_That's_ what you want?" I replied, my fist clenching around the hilt of my blade. "Lethe's little _what-if_ scenario? You're fucking naive, Leonhart. Always have been." Resentment welled up in me, the man's words too little too fucking late. "Run back to your princess and get the fuck out of my face."

A confused look crossed Leonhart's expression. "Rinoa?"

"Who else have you been fucking, huh?!" I snapped, the stab of jealousy both unwelcome and unexpected. "_Leave_!" I doubted I'd be able to make a smooth exit myself, the ground unsteady beneath my feet.

"We broke up," Leonhart said slowly.

His admission didn't sink in right away, the implications too much for my booze-addled mind. "...You fucking moron. You told her, didn't you? Shoulda kept your mouth shut and she'd have kept your sorry ass."

"I owed her the truth," Leonhart deadpanned, as if the truth was such an easy thing.

"What the fuck is the truth good for?" I sneered. "You're too honorable, Leonhart. A bit of fondling and you figure you cheated on her? Go beg. I'm sure she'll take her _hero_ back."

For a moment, his eyes tightened in clear deliberation as he studied me. "..._I _was the one who broke it off," he said, his every word sounding weighed. His gaze was intent, scrutinizing my reaction.

Head reeling, I wasn't sure whether I was imagining shit or whether Leonhart _wanted_ me to read between the lines. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" I said, unsure whether the man expected a shoulder to cry on or congratulations. "You've cut loose your ball and chain. _Good for you_."

"You don't care about any of what happened?" he asked, more quietly now.

I laughed at the vulnerability naked on his face. Leonhart had fallen far to need my acceptance so badly. Walking up close, I loomed over him.

"What can I say, Leonhart. I was a fucking embarrassment to myself, no excuses there." Fascinated by the almost breakable frown he presented me with, I let the alcohol cloud my better judgment and leaned in close. "Don't worry. It won't happen again."

My breath ghosted his ear as I spoke those last words. About to laugh out loud again, having played my joke, my amusement was stopped short by the barely noticeable shudder that traveled the length of Leonhart's body at my provocation.

Unsettled,I stepped back and regarded the man with suspicious eyes. "What the fuck was the point of calling me out here, Leonhart."

The brunet didn't immediately meet my gaze, and when he did, it almost seemed as if the man was _stalling_.

"Come find me if you change your mind," he finally said, his voice even again. "For a spar, if you like."

With those words, he turned away from me and walked towards the trees and underbrush that demarcated the clearing.

"Change my mind about _what_?!" I shouted after him, but Leonhart had already disappeared from sight, the sound of his footsteps receding quickly. Cursing under my breath, I ambled towards one of the bigger rocks with an unsteady gait and sat myself down to momentarily stop the spinning.

_Fuck_.

That had not been the epic beating I'd had in mind. Not even close. Instead my chest felt tight, my palms sweaty as they'd never been during one of our spars. What the fuck kind of shitty peace offering had that been anyway? _Come find me_? Have me running after his sorry ass, doing all the chasing? Those days were long fucking over.

But even as I tried to fill my mind with hateful thoughts, they failed to regain their sharpness. Had it even been a peace offering? Swaying on my perch, I dropped my gunblade to the ground and rested my head in my hands. I shouldn't have come here drunk. I couldn't fucking think straight.

I'd gotten too worked up about all the wrong things, always reacting before thinking. Leonhart's mere presence was enough to irritate me, but now that he was gone, I mulled over what he had actually _said_. I frowned as I replayed our unlikely conversation.

_We can trust each other again. _I _was the one who broke it off. Come find me if you change your mind._

What had I said again to earn that last prompt? That I wouldn't let any of it happen again... Did he _want_ something to happen again? I shook my head, snorting at myself, but his words kept running through my head.

From someone else it wouldn't mean anything, but from Leonhart... Not in all the years of our rivalry, or even the time before that, not _once_ had he called me out. He would react whenever I came running, but he had never made the first move. Not until now.

And that shudder... He couldn't possibly be afraid of me. Not even during our fiercest spars had the man ever backed down from me, no matter the odds, but this time I could've sworn he'd nearly flinched. If I hadn't experienced firsthand he was capable of some very wanton reactions, I would've chalked it up to my imagination.

I huffed, reaching to the ground to pick up my gunblade. I had to be _really_ drunk to think Leonhart of all people had just tried to proposition me, or _something_ along those lines. Whatever the man had tried to accomplish, I wasn't equipped right now to try and understand it. Perhaps in the morning this entire exchange would make more sense.

Getting my ass off the rock boulder, I ambled towards the exit, that tantalizing shudder replaying in my mind over and over.

* * *

**Author's Note:** [29th of May, 2014] Well, I ran a bit late again with this chapter ^^; no internet failure this time, just life :3 I won't bore you with the details. I just hope that you guys weren't getting too impatient. So, one more chapter after this! I'm a bit sad about the approaching end (time flew!), so I'll be wallowing in a slightly longer author's note than usual ;)

_Sans_pertinence_ pointed out in a review that it's funny how Squall is dealing a lot more honestly with everything than Seifer, and I'm glad that got noticed :) Squall/Seifer fanfics usually cast Squall as the reluctant side, with Seifer seducing him with any means necessary. I thought it would be fun to do it differently, in part because it's been a not-so-secret wish of _Chemotaxis_ to read that kind of story, but also because it was refreshing to write :3 _Io_ pointed out how the memory loss gave them a fresh start, which is exactly what I wanted to do. To create some kind of contrast between those two realities—with memory, without memory. The war made them into different people, and that's not without consequences (hence the angst I warned you guys about). _Seta Kaita_, I'm glad you don't blame me for not spiriting Rinoa away from the story :3 I've read many stories that bash Rinoa, a recurring theme in other fandoms as well where female characters get bashed for no other reason than getting in the way of the main pairing, and I think we can do better. It's so much less under-the-ruggy-with-that-bitch when writers try to write a real, believable reason why a certain relationship doesn't work out. It happens often enough in real life that two good people can't make it work. And isn't it more rewarding anyway to have Squall himself choose Seifer over Rinoa, not because Rinoa is a snotty spoiled girl, but because she's just not the right one for him? I'd also find it hard to believe Squall would voluntarily sign up for a bratty, whiny, self-absorbed, horrible woman. He's got more serious stuff to deal with ;) And _Juliakaze_, thanks for kicking my butt into gear for this chapter ;) You're just the sweetest.

In a nutshell, it's been great to have such nice feedback from you guys. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me, to all my awesome reviewers:1succumb, Chemotaxis, glacialkitten, Io, Juliakaze26, JuniperHeart, natsu, Ruid D'ruid, sans_pertinence, Seta Kaita, and Shirosenshi Kisetsu 116. Thanks, you guys, for taking the time.

And thank you to everyone who has favorited this story or put me on alert. I'd be so lovely if I could hear from you guys in a review or PM for the last chapter I'll be putting up next week.

See you guys then!


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